


Fragments of our Souls

by sweethaleia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Maria Hill & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Not Beta Read, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweethaleia/pseuds/sweethaleia
Summary: Twice. He shot her twice. Still, they are meant to be.Fate can be such a bitch for both of them.Natasha Romanov is trying to find herself again, however, Bucky Barnes is more lost than she is, and, curiously, needs her help to recover. For it, they will follow on a journey together to hunt the remnants of Hydra, and to know each other.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. First meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know I was a WinterWidow fan until this idea came on my mind.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

Natasha runs. She can’t lose speed, not when it comes to him. A living legend, she heard about him, of course, she did, she never underestimated him. But she has to admit that she prayed that he was, in fact, just it, a legend, a myth created to keep away spies and assassins from that organization base. She may have a chance if she fights against him, she is a good one, the best girl that the Red Room has ever had, she reminds herself, but she wouldn’t fight until it was the last option, so for now, she runs.

He’s not after her, no, he is not even interested in her, though she is the obstacle keeping him from accomplishing his mission, which is all that matter to him, which means that he’ll kill her if it is what needs to be done if it is what he needs to do to achieve his target. The same target she is supposed to protect. As you see, it’s not her life at stake, but a man’s life, a nuclear engineer she is supposed to escort out of Iran safe and sound, and she was hired because she’s the best, she couldn’t fail now, no matter what it takes.

She pushes the engineer’s back with an urge, forcing him to climb up the stairs as fast as possible, two steps at once, in that dark and empty part of the facility the engineer worked, the place smells like burnt gasoline that made her twitches her nose. Natasha expects to mislead him, though the dark-haired and imposing man does not seem to worry about it, he follows them quietly, taking his time to each step, moving carefully and slowly, tasting the hunt. After all, there is no way to run, he knows it, and Natasha knows it too from the bottom of her heart, she is just trying to sound optimistic right now, if she knew better, she should’ve ended it right now, let the asset finishes his mission, because he’s not going to give up just like that. Who is she fooling besides herself? There’s no chance here. This is going to lead to the very same end, with the engineer dead, and perhaps she will end in the same grave too because the Winter Soldier never fails in a mission. Never.

He has been killing people for far too long, responsible for at least a dozen assassinations in the last fifty years, his aim is impeccable. Natasha doesn’t know what that nuclear engineer did to piss the organization so much. After all, refuse was not a word that they know, it’s not well accepted, it must have been something really bad; otherwise, they would not have sent the Winter Soldier himself to kill him.

Natasha breaks through a door; the large, blink, red signal seems to laugh at her, pointing the exact direction she intends to follow, nothing she can do about it, though. Those stairs led to a bleak parking lot where the nuclear engineer quickly runs towards and unlock his car. Natasha pushes him to the passenger seat, taking the wheel in her hands, for a second the man tries to protest but shuts up when he faces her deadly look, she's trying to save his life, so he better do what she says. Natasha steps deep on the accelerator, the tires making that annoying noise from the sudden and fast move. She drives them away, sending a blast of smoke, from the rearview she watches the Winter Soldier, dark clothes, a mask covering part of his face, holding a gun firmly with a silver arm, his tall and robust figure looking almost majestic in the air. On another occasion, Natasha would absolutely enjoy the view, but not now, not when he’s trying to kill her. He disappears from her camp if sight right when she reaches the outside.

The rocky and mountainous entrance of the parking lot growing behind them, though the apparent distance between them and the Winter Soldier is not enough to make Natasha lows her guard, anyway, she’s working, and it’s not like Agent Romanoff, a spy, ever let her guard down. Also, Natasha had heard plenty about him to know how unpredictable this mysterious man can be, and farther they got from the place, for a moment, she starts to think that he was left behind, then, out of nowhere, she hears a shot. The man is a reckless, ruthless shadow. No one has ever escaped from him. She exhales a heavy and exasperated sigh; she thought she could be the one to do it. The first one, actually, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t used to failing.

The shot came from above them, from the left side of the mountain, the driver side, in fact, was he trying to get rid of her? Probably. She looks through the rearview, trying to spot him somewhere in those mountains and failing miserably. Another shot echoes in the place, this time hitting one of the tires, making them lose speed, quickly followed by another shot and, another flat tire makes Natasha lose complete control, going straight over a cliff, stopped only by the crash barrier. Natasha feels her body being thrown forward, her head hitting the wheel, and then pulled backward, a thread of blood dripping from her forehead. Natasha curses in Russian, angry words directed to that fucking man, the Winter Soldier, how dare him? Natasha wonders. She steps out of the vehicle, guns in both hands; it’s now or never. The engineer gets out of the car, gasping for air in the floor, Natasha sees his figure standing there like he was immortal, fearless as if nothing could bring him down. She’s overexposing herself for the enemy, she aims at the man above there, raising her arms resolutely decided to kill, she never got the chance, though.

Another shot ringed in her ears, and Natasha feels the burning pain spreading over her lower belly, her eyes scattered in shock when she looks down seeing her clothes wet in her own blood, Natasha stumbled backward, when she raised her eyes again the Winter Soldier had disappeared, taken as a leaf by the strong wind in the middle of nowhere. Her eyes move to the engineer in the ground, the target, the man is lying on a puddle of his blood, the bullet hit the side of his head, his empty eyes looking to the nothing before him, an accurate shot given right through her.

Natasha groped her clothes in search of her cell phone in order to ask for help; she leans back in the car, she failed, Natasha thinks closing her eyes in an attempt to ignore the pinching pain on her lower belly, it was difficult to breathe. She dialed the emergency number, the chime making her laugh at the thought that came in her head. If she survived this, she'd have to say bye-bye bikinis.

-

This nightmare is far from over.

Natasha knows it’s him again right away when Steve says the shooter is strong, fast, and has a metal arm. It’s him, no doubts. The result of ballistics that Hill presented her only make her more sure about this statement, soviet slug, untraceable, just like the one that hit her five years ago. He’s back, and he killed Nick Fury for some unknown reason to her that she’ll find out. He’s back, and in Washington, Natasha swears to herself that she’ll find who this man is, what his motivations are. That unknown and mysterious man that she tried so hard the past years to go after to stop in a dead-end. The chance has now fallen on her hands.

So, of course, she’s going to help Captain America, now a fugitive of S.H.I.E.L.D. for concealing pieces of information about the supposed assassination of Nick Fury, to find what is in that USB flash drive. The S.T.R.I.K.E team is on their back; for some reason, Natasha knows that she can’t trust any of them; she’s always been good at reading people. Brock Rumlow is not who they think he is, he’s a dangerous man, Natasha knows it only by his movements, he’s not reliable, nor Alexander Pierce, there’s something off with them.

Natasha follows Steve to New Jersey, after misleading the S.T.R.I.K.E. team in that mall, she is slightly surprised that Captain America, the man out of time, the patriotic hero, knows how to steal a car; also, she gets even more surprised by the fact that Steve wants her like a friend. Natasha Romanoff was not used to having friends. Allies, maybe, but not friends or family; the Red Room taught her that creating laces makes her weaker; it becomes harder to kill. That’s why the graduation ceremony is sterilization, and a maternal lace is something that would only make her vulnerable. Though the words on her wrist were kept, the same words that her soulmate would say to her when they first met, even though people could still live the rest of their lives without never knowing their soulmate. Natasha believed she would be one of these; there was no place in the world for her; after all, then why on Earth would she be lucky to meet her soulmate? It did not seem coherent to her. However, every single day, she stared those black words embedded on her skin like they’re guilty of feeding her hopes, in some way, they are.

Natasha only knew one person that met his soulmate, Clint Barton, happily married to Laura, two kids, a girl, and a boy. Clint’s family was hidden from the S.H.I.E.L.D’s files, one of prowess that only Nick Fury is capable, and Clint trusted her enough to reveal, something she wasn’t used to. For her, Clint is not only Hawkeye; he is certainly one of those few friends that Steve had mentioned that he wanted her to be.

“Have you know your soulmate?” she asks Steve during their short trip. Steve moves uncomfortable on his seat, eyes on the road; talking so openly about this whole soulmate thing wasn’t something that people usually do; it’s a private matter anyway, but suddenly Natasha can’t hold her curiosity back. She wanted to know others who met their soulmates, to know how it is to have such a strong bond with someone for the rest of your life. Steve does not answer, but he nods in agreement. “Was it before or after the ice?”

“After,” Steve mutters.

“How is he?” Natasha asks, yeah, she knows Captain America is not as straight as he looks, as she said, she’s good at reading people, and it seemed to get Steve off guard, she watches his grip tightened around the wheel as he holds his breath for a few seconds. “It’s not taboo anymore, you know,” she tries to make him relax.

“It’s… complicated,” Steve breathes out. Natasha nods, yes, it must be, she thinks, and for some reason, she can’t imagine herself bonded with someone like this for the rest of her life, at the same time, she wonders how her soulmate must look, what fate has prepared for her? It’s an inner fight that she is afraid to lose. She hates to lose control of a situation.

Then, Natasha thought she might never know her soulmate, not when a missile is coming in hers and Steve’s direction, it’s not that bad, though, she tries to convince herself when the roof is coming down on their heads. She is not dead as she thought, knocking on the door of a guy named Sam Wilson, Steve’s friend, or maybe… soulmate? That information she doesn’t possess, she should’ve asked him, but she didn’t want to be more indiscreet. Fine, she’ll find out on her own, or maybe she asks him someday when they become, actually, friends.

The discovery that S.H.I.E.L.D. is, actually, Hydra is pretty crazy, the same one that sent the Winter Soldier behind that nuclear engineer. Natasha feels fooled and she hates this sensation. But knowing Hydra’s plan with the hellcarriers and the whole Project Insight puts her together to accomplish her purpose, they’re sitting in a car holding Jasper Sitwell in order to plan a way to shut down the whole malefic Project, when he appears again.

The Winter Soldier.

Loud noise on the top of the car, Sitwell is dragged out of the vehicle and thrown to the other side of the busy road where a truck runs directly over him, not an easy death. She jumps to Steve’s lap, the metal arm man as reckless and imposing as she remembers him.

He goes after them, his mission is more than obvious, he wants them dead, Hydra wants them dead, Alexander Pierce wants them dead, and the Winter Soldier never failed in a mission, so why would he now?

Natasha attacks him from behind, trying to choke him, she has a chance to fight differently from five years ago. He’s strong, he really is, and when finds herself free to go again, she runs. Not because she is scared, because she knows that fighting will be a waste of time, the best she can do to help is tell people to run, to stay away. They don’t need civilians to get hurt for staying in his way. He shots, and she feels the pain spreading all over her shoulder and collarbone, she hides, although she knows it’s useless, he will find her, he always seems to find her, it’s a weird connection. When she sees him again, she is certain that she’s dead, but fate is not arbitrary and it looks to want to pull them together over and over again. On the other hand, she feels the handcuffs sticking her hands, Rumlow mumbling ‘not here’ to a guy aiming his gun on Captain America’s head, perhaps the dark-haired man won’t kill her, but the S.T.R.I.K.E. team will, or the uninterrupted bleeding on her shoulder.

Twice. The Winter Soldier shot her twice; no, no, Bucky, that was his name according to Steve. James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s best friend since they were kids and now the man didn’t even remember him, he doesn’t even remember who he was or used to be. Hydra messed up with his minds, brainwashed him, turned him into a weapon. At least, now she knew his real name and what really happened to him during all those years. She couldn’t feel mad at him, he wasn’t guilty, it was people’s fault for turning him like this, just like they did to her in the Red Room, people made them on who they are now.

Turns out, she didn’t die, nor from the bullet neither from Hydra S.T.R.I.K.E. team. It’s all gone now. Hydra, apparently, came down after Natasha revealed all its secrets, the Winter Soldier disappeared from their radar, but Natasha wanted to know more, she needs to know in her bones. That’s why she quickly pulled strings, called in a few favors from Kiev, and got a file with information about James Barnes. She wasn’t the only one interested, in fact, it was Steve who asked her for it, but, well, take a glance at it wouldn't do any damage, right?

She handed the file to Steve knowing that he’ll look for Bucky, they’re best friends, after all, and all these Steve thought that he was dead, he had died when he fell from the train, now, seventy years later, here they are. Good, he needed a purpose, and Natasha required to find a new identity after release Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrets along with all the information they had about her past. She needed to find herself.

Just a few more days in Washington, then she would leave, it was fine. Deep inside of her, Natasha felt that she needed to make up with society after years on KGB, and all crimes she committed along. She needed a new purpose, a fresh beginning.

Natasha just doesn’t expect him to show up again and delay all her plans.

She packed all her bags, only the extremely necessary stuff, she should be leaving the U.S.A. tomorrow night. As a farewell, Maria Hill invited her to take a beer or a vodka, as Natasha usually likes; Sam came as well, although, for some unknown reason, Steve couldn’t come, though he was already recovered for his injuries with the Winter Soldier. Damnit, supersoldier serum. “Soulmate’s problems,” Sam mumbled to her, shrugging. Yeah, the soldier wasn’t Steve’s soulmate, but Natasha was sure she’d find out, she’s a spy, she knows exactly how to take information out of people.

“Where are you going now?” Hill asked. Natasha took a sip of her beer before shrugging.

“I’m not sure, maybe I should just go to Budapest,” she jokes, smiling.

“You’re going after him, don’t you? You just don’t wanna play by Captain Rogers rules,” Hill stated. Natasha turned the bottle in one gulp, leaving a banknote at the counter.

“Told ya, I dunno,” Natasha whispers, putting on her black leather jacket. “Better get going. Good luck with Stark’s interview tomorrow,” she wishes.

Natasha leaves the bar, following down the crowded street, it was Friday night, everybody was on the streets partying. She takes a shortcut between two buildings to her apartment, hands inside her pockets, walking quietly through the streets. She almost misses the shadow following her. Almost. Her attentive instincts all alerted, now that she noticed it’s hard to just ignore, the footsteps are quiet, nearly imperceptible.

Natasha takes an alley, an attempt to distract her follower to know where she’s heading. The blue streetlight gives a grim air to the place when she turns around to face the person, gun in her hands, her index resting restlessly on the trigger, ready to shoot. The man steps backward, hiding his face in the darkness, he raises both arms on the air, surrendering, a spark sent in the air when the blue light reflects on his metal arm, he takes a step forward, his grumpy hair falling on his jawline.

“I need your help, please.”


	2. Who the hell is Bucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took more time than I expect to write it. I'll try to update every Friday, all right?  
> Just be sure that I won't abandon a fic, I believe the readers deserve to get an end.

Something about the words that that man had said woke a feeling inside him, an acknowledgment feeling as a  _ déjà vu _ , those words brought something up from the depths of his being. _ ‘I’m with you till the end of the line’ _ , the words reverberated inside his head like an incessant chant. He forgot something, but why did he forget? and why does it look so important? Bucky put his hands on both sides of his head, covering his ears from the annoying noise of the city, he can’t focus here, not with those loud klaxons and the brightness light, too much for his unused sight. Where did he know that man from? He’s familiar, Bucky knows it, he feels it, though the image of the man didn’t seem to fit with the scrawny sick kid lying on the bed with a non-stopping cough, the picture of it coming randomly in his mind.

He recognized him, even if for a moment, that’s why he dragged him out of the water just like the old times where he’s always saving Steve’s ass. Steve! The name came up so naturally, there’s something in there, the man never told him his name, and still, Bucky was able to give a name to the man’s face. That man, Steve, apparently, knew him, but how could Bucky not remember him? In fact, he realized that he does not remember anything, the only thing he could attach himself was his feeling towards those people he fought on the bridge, and these same ones were telling him that he cared about that man, he just can’t remember why. If only he could remember, at least a slight flash of memory. Something. Anything. He needed that as desperately as the air he was struggling to breathe in, to pass through the growing lump in his throat.

_ Bucky _ , the name echoed in his head.  _ Bucky _ . Steve had called him once, on the bridge.  _ Bucky _ . He kept repeating the name as the pronunciation of it was capable to bring something back. Who the hell is Bucky? _ “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my friend.”  _ Steve told it so sure of himself to Bucky just take this as a mistake. That star-spangled suit, he’d seen that before somewhere, he just can’t remember where, and this is starting to piss him off. He’s able to recognize those things, but can’t remember how, where or when.

Bucky felt confused. Suddenly, his life seemed to be turned inside out, before the blond man shows up saying that he was his friend nothing mattered but the mission he’d be designed. Now, it looked like that he just woke up from a long trance, and was wandering around the noisy and creepy streets dressed in weird black-leathered clothes. Bucky stops, looking around to see where his feet took him because since he pulled Steve out of the water, he’s been walking away, adrift, his mind too distracted trying to pull together the flashes that coming once in a while. Trying to understand. To figure out who he really is or was, because at the moment he does not have an identity or personality, his entire being was molded by Hydra.

Hydra. The organization name sent an agonizing pain behind his eyes along with memories of sparring sessions, numerous murders committed by him in its name, attempts of escapes, as well as the excruciating pain of being brainwashed, then put back on suspension in a cryo-chamber after the accomplished mission. Pain. That’s all Bucky received in the last 70 years under Hydra’s custody.

Bucky opened his eyes, his metal arm finding support on a tree where he leans back, waiting for the pain to go away. He blinked several times until his sight focus on the place before him. The sun is setting on the horizon, the remnants of the orange color starting to mix with the dark blue, a hint of purple in the middle of the sky, such a fantastic and hypnotizing degrade of colors. Probably, the most beautiful thing that Bucky had seen in years.

He only takes his eyes out of the sky when a blue ball stops close to his feet. Bucky looked confused to the object in front of him, without knowing what to do, then a seven years old boy came running in his direction. The boy stops a few steps away from Bucky as he was afraid that if he got to close the man would attack him, Bucky didn’t blame him, all in his current situation seemed threatening, his messy hair, the dark clothes, the metal arm. Bucky leans in, holding the inoffensive ball in his hands and probably the first thing he touched that wasn’t a weapon in years. He hands the ball to the small boy, blond hair sticking with sweat on his forehead when he comes closer and takes the toy from Bucky’s hands.

“Thank you, sir,” the boy gives him a light smile before runs back to a bunch of boys in the middle of the park. Bucky frowns, with the warm feeling blossoming inside his chest, he is not used to kindness

The scene developing in front of him is too attractive, which makes him moves out of the tree's back to contemplate it, marveled by the naiveness of those kids running and playing around, shouting happy. He sits on one of the available benches in the park, focusing on the murmuring of the kids and mothers talking, forgetting for a moment of the annoying noises of the city, leaving his past behind for a while. He can't fix it, anyway.

_ Then, in a blink, he's not there anymore. He's a kid in the middle of the Brooklyn running along with other boys in the streets, a newspaper under his arm left arm, and a box filled with colorful small tubes of cheap inks. Bucky makes his way home, only stopping to greet the scrawny boy sat on the front steps holding a branch that he uses to draw on the ground. _

_ "Bucky," the boy greets with a nod. _

_ "You got better," Bucky says, approaching the boy carefully, but not getting too close since he was covered in dirt, and Bucky knows that even little can be harmful to the scrawny boy's fragile health. Bucky hadn't seen him in a while since Steve spent the last week on a bed, his mother had told Bucky that it was just a cold and a slight fever, nothing to worry about, though visitors were forbidden, at least, until Steve got better. Better safe than sorry, she told him. "I--I got you some inks." Bucky hurries to say, sitting down beside Steve and passing him the box. _

_ “You shouldn’t spend your money with me,” Steve scolds him, opening the box and scanning the tubes against the fading sunlight. Bucky spent the last two weeks shining shoes downtown to get enough money to be able to buy those inks to Steve, since his best friend was sick and abed, Bucky thought that would be nice if Steve could draw and paint something in this meantime, that certainly would keep him distracted. _

_ “I don’t mind. I’m glad your better,” Bucky shrugs, patting lightly on Steve’s thin shoulder. _

_ “Thanks, Buck,” Steve whispers, still admiring the vivid colors. _

_ “You’re welcome, Stevie.” _

The next moment he blinks he is back to the park; kids bidding their farewell to their friends and running to their mothers to go home. Bucky watches the scene with a feeling of nostalgia blossoming inside his chest, that’s new, he thinks. And he realizes that’s the first time he feels something in a long time, and it’s good. Yeah, he can be confused about this whole new world he was thrust in, but this, this freedom is oddly good, it’s what he’s been wanting for such a long time. Freedom.

Bucky lays on the bench, putting his arm under his head and the metal arm’s hand resting on his stomach; he looks to the now dark sky, the full moon high on the sky, he can’t see the stars with all these lights peeking around him, outshining the natural state of things. It does not please him, and Bucky realizes that there is a lot that does not please him in this city, wherever he was, the flamboyant lights, the loud noise of cars, the smell of grease and smoking make his nose twitch.

The cold wind of night gives him chills, slowly his body relaxes on the bench, the tiredness of that insane day finally hitting him. Bucky lets his thoughts drifting, taking him to dark memories of his time under Hydra's custody, his training, also matching with flashes of his past, mostly related to good moments with Steve, then the Second World War. His memories are not linear, but Bucky makes a mental note to search for more, for answers. Until he finally fell asleep on that bench in the park. Lost in an undiscovered world.

The morning sun makes him blink several times before open his eyes fully, the warmness on his skin looks like to restore the strength on his muscle, pushing away the cold waters he's been sinking, as if the sun rays were caressing around his body, heating his heart and causing numbness; it's a good way to waking up, though. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, stretching like a cat and straightening his body while sitting up, his boots stepping on the fresh and wet grass of the morning. Afar, the city is waking up, the first evidence of cars circulating in the morning sounding in the distance.

A bunch of pigeons is cooing next to his bench, eating crumbs of bread that someone must have thrown to them. On the sidewalk, a ma'am is doing her morning walk casually, though she twitches her nose at the sight of Bucky, probably thinking he is just a drunk who fell asleep in the streets. Bucky stretches his arms above his head, catching a glimpse of light when the sun hits his metal arm, he should've got a jacket to hide the bionic arm from the stares of curious, maybe it also helps him to settle in this unbalanced and unknown world to him.

Bucky looks down to the pigeons eating the crumbs casually, he does not remember the last time he ate or even drank something, that's the kind of information he should know, but since he was not in full control of his body and needs, he can't find an answer to give to himself. What does he like to eat? What kind of man was he? He wonders, so many questions to be answered. He pulls away from the strands of dark hair falling on his face, the sleeve is pulled up just a bit for him to catch a glimpse of the words marked on his wrist. Bucky furrows his brow, pulling the sleeve up to get a full sight of it, sliding his thumb over the words.

_ "Mom, what do these words mean?" A five-year-old Bucky asks. _

_ The woman rinses the plate and puts it aside to look to her son. _

_ "These are very special words, my boy," she pulls a chair to sit by his side, resting her arm on the table and showing her own words to the kid. "Everyone has these engraved on their wrists. These are the first words your soulmate is going to say to you." _

_ The boy frowns at the explanation. _

_ "What is a soulmate?" The woman, his mother, gives him a bright smile. _

_ "It's someone who will make you want to be a better you. This person will give you the purest love, it'll love you for who you are. It's a unique connection with another being," his mother explains to him, and the bright smile lessens. "Many people don't find their soulmates, though, and they still lead a happy life," she adds. Bucky nods, his blue eyes watching his mother curiously. _

_ "Did you find yours, mom?" _

_ "I did, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll also find yours someday." _

The memory came so suddenly that Bucky felt dizzy when his eyes focused on the pigeons once again, his thumb still brushing the words on his skin. A soulmate. After so many years, Bucky didn’t believe he would find his. It’s okay, he tells himself, who needed a soulmate anyway? He surely didn’t need one, right now, the only person he needed to find was himself, because he was feeling lost and disoriented in his own skin.

It is the sound of his stomach rumbling that drives him out from his reveries, a reminder that he’s still a human being who needs to eat, though he is also homeless who has no money in his pockets. Bucky sighs longing and thwarting before gets on his feet. He needed to do something about his current situation, there is no use in finally getting freedom just to die from inanition in the streets, and Bucky knows he’s not going to like what he’s going to do.

The man crosses the street following to the same path he came yesterday, thankfully, the streets are not crowded yet, which means that he will not draw attention to him and his metal arm, though his paces are hurried. He knows that there’s a coffee shop down that street, he saw it yesterday, he remembers to see one, but it’s not like he can trust his mind. His hypothesis is confirmed when he spots the shop in the corner, opened for a bright new day. There are a few people sat inside, next to its glass frontispiece, there is a gray-haired man dressed in an expansive, Bucky could say, and wrinkles free black suit holding a newspaper that blocks his camp of sight; further inside the coffee shop there are two well-dressed woman chattering and occasionally sipping their hot macchiato, the slight hot smoke coming up from their cups blurs the glasses of one of them. On the outside tables, there’s only a regular-sized man that Bucky can easily overpower with his painstaking and indefatigable training along with the super-soldier serum running in his veins, but he doesn’t need to do it, at least once he does not need to fight because the man draws out his wallet and goes inside, leaving his motorcycle helmet and dark khaki green jacket on the chair opposite to where he was sat.

That’s his chance. Bucky rushes his pace, passing by the coffee shop, his eyes fixed on the moves inside it. The man is paying for his coffee, a smile tugging his lips while he talks to the young lady in the cashier. Bucky takes the jacket from the chair and half croissant left behind, then he turns the corner where whoever it is inside the coffee shop can't see him. He sighs in relief for not getting caught and puts on the jacket that fits him perfectly, he shoves his hands inside the pockets of it, and he walks away, feeling freer than he has ever been.

Bucky has nowhere to go, no money, no friends or family here. Here, where is here? He wonders, not knowing anything was starting to feel unpleasant, he knew that he needed to ask for help, perhaps, even trying to locate that Steve guy. Bucky found himself in a large avenue, modern cars going through both ways, which makes Bucky frowns, from the last memories he got back everything looked oddly different. He shifts, waiting for the traffic light turns to red to cross the streets. Everything in this world just looked weird for him.

At distance, Bucky sees the Washington Monument, suddenly acknowledging that he has no idea how he knows its name, it’s just there in the depths of whatever others brainwashed memories are. Washington, D.C., capital of the United States, that’s where he is. Flashes of memories are coming so quickly into his head that it makes him feel dizzy. There’s something wrong here, he’s missing something, a lot, actually. All of this seems utter nonsense. “What the hell?” Bucky mutters to himself, giving a few steps forward to the road, his eyes fixed on the Monument while he tries to organize the pieces of information he has, trying to establish a chronological order with the memories he recuperated, but all of it just works to confuse him even more.

In a minute, he’s looking at the Washington Monument, and in the next one, he felt something hitting his back, a strong amount of force that makes him fall all fours on the floor. Bucky groans in pain, massaging his pained back before turns around and sits on the floor. A small number of people are starting to gather around him. Bucky looks up to see the White Sedan stopped right in front of him, the driver opens the left door, rushing toward Bucky on the floor. He looks like a college student, Bucky supposed by the lab coat falling on his shoulder, as well as his nervous and troubled expression, his glasses slip off his face when he raises his hands to put in each side of his head, pulling his hair lightly.

“Man, I--I-I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The young man walks back and forth in front of him, taking a device out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call 911, don’t worry. I-I-I,” the man’s hands are shaking, and Bucky can’t see his chest rising with difficulty like he was about to have a panic attack or something.

Bucky jumps at is feet, except for the shock he was completely fine, there’s no need to call an ambulance.

“I’m okay,” Bucky says, touching the young man’s shoulder slightly just to reassure him. “Seriously,” Bucky looked around to see that the crowd started to scatter, then his eyes fall back on the Washington Monument and go back to the device on the hands of the man. “What is it?” Bucky points his chin at the device.

The man frowns, following Bucky’s gaze. “This? It’s a cellphone, come on, man,” at the sight of Bucky frowning too, the man shifts uncomfortably. “You can’t--wait, you really don’t know what is it?”

Bucky shakes his head, glancing up to face the man’s confused glare.

“What year are we in?”

“2014.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something and he realizes that he has nothing to say, not really. He had been under Hydra’s custody for years, decades! Everyone he knew one day was dead, well, except Steve, he survived somehow, and Bucky, he should be dead too. The thought made him dizzy, and he found support in the man’s car, his head felt heavy all of sudden. The man was speaking something, but Bucky couldn’t listen to, the blood was pounding heavily in his ears, sweat rolling down his forehead, that was too much. Too much. The man wraps his hand around Bucky’s wrist and it’s enough to snap him back to reality.

“Hey, man. Did you hit your head? Look, we should probably go to a hospital and get you checked…” Now, it was Bucky who wrapped his metal hand on the man’s arm.

“No. I-I-Just get me out of here, right, please. I-I-I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” Bucky says more to himself than to the young guy.

“Okay. Right,” the man opens the passenger door, leading Bucky inside his car, and quickly moving and getting himself ready in the driver’s seat. He looks at Bucky curiously and concerned. “I’m Levi,” he introduces himself. “What’s your name?” Bucky looks straight ahead.

“He called me Bucky, but I don’t know,” his blue eyes stare back to Levi. “I don’t know who I am.”

Levi took him to his apartment, provided a proper meal and even a changed of clothes, that Bucky really appreciated, eager to get rid of that uniform Hydra has made for him as he was the fearless Winter Soldier. Levi was an internship at a hospital in Washington, for what Bucky had understood, the metal-armed man had so many things in his head right now to focus on the babbled from the young man. Anyway, Levi gave him a quick check-up, though he’d said he could do nothing about Bucky’s memories without a CT, and the short man insisted to take Bucky to the hospital who denied firmly, assuring Levi that he was fine.

Also, Levi was willing to alert the authorities about Bucky’s state, affirming that his memory loss was putting him in great danger out there, which is true, but if they really were in 2014, then there was no one left to contact about him. Bucky knew very well that he was on his own for now. He needed to find a way to rebuild a life for him, away for anything that could lead him to his past, but he couldn’t deny that he was curious to know more about himself. At the end of the day, he managed to convince Levi that he was okay, he had no family or friends to contact, he could deal with all this shit on his own.

“Absolutely not. You’re not leaving,” Levi protested.

“I can’t--” Bucky started to retort, trying to put some reason inside the younger head.

“No. You said your memories are coming back slowly, right?” Bucky nods. “Okay, then, you stay, when you remember someone of your family or your full name, then we’ll contact them. But, for now, you stay here,” Levi finished. “Where have you been sleeping?”

“Hum, I-I slept on a bench last night,” Bucky said, adding, “It’s fine, really.”

“There’s nothing fine about it, B-Bucky, right?” Levi confirmed. “Your name remember me Buckbeak, the  hippogriff in Harry Potter’s movies,” Bucky raised a brow, having no idea about what the internship was talking about, Levi sighed longing while throwing a blanket to Bucky sat on the couch. “Never mind. Anyway, you stay here, there’s no problem with it, I live here alone, anyway, you won’t bother anyone.”

“I-I just… I can’t pay you back for that,” Bucky confessed, ashamed of the situation he found himself in. Levi waves a hand.

“No need for payment. I’m trying to help a person, that’s what I do, I help people,” Levi says, then smiles. “I bet my couch it’s more comfortable than a bench.”

Somehow, this statement makes Bucky smiles, except for the little boy in the park yesterday, Levi was the only person being kind with him. Maybe, because he was a doctor and like he told Bucky, he helped people. All these news sensations were odd to him, being cared for someone, knowing that someone actually sees him like a person, a human being, and not a weapon who could be rebooted whenever it started to present failures. For the first time, he was being seen. He was someone, he was Bucky.

“You shouldn’t trust that much on me,” Bucky said, looking away from where Levi was standing.

“Why? It’s not like you’re some kind of serial killer or something, right?”

Bucky huffs at his choice of words. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled to himself.

That night when Bucky lays his head on the cushions on the couch, he thinks on what kind of guy he used to be, and he’s sure that he was not the kind of robbing jackets in coffee shops. Some of his memories looked clearer now, there was a war, he fights in it, apparently along with Steve, though he can’t remember how he stopped in Hydra’s hands, even if he can remember every single person he killed for Hydra, their faces looking at him in the dark, haunting him forever. Bucky feels abashed, he should have fought more, tried more, did something because the guiltiness was eating him alive. A burden on his chest that he could never get rid of. He could never clean the blood on his hands.

Bucky feels the salty tears rolling down his face, he moves to his side, putting both hands under the pillow. Levi hasn’t gotten scared by his metal arm, instead, he got exciting talking about how medicine has been advancing the last years, the new machines, treatments, new surgeries techniques, all of this supposed to make people’s lives better, so apparently, Bucky’s arm was an innovation and advanced technology. Though what really interest Bucky was on his right arm, the words tattooed in his skin, he had caught a glimpse of Levi’s briefly, Bucky wondered if his soulmate was still alive, he wondered how she would look like, what she did, was she happy? Perhaps, it was better this way, he tried to convince himself, his soulmate didn’t deserve someone broken like him, she was better without him, it was better for both of them.

Bucky woke up in a jump, he sat so fast that he felt the room spinning around him, placing both hands to cover his face. His breath was heavy and irregular, it looked that there was too much air inside his lungs, he just simply couldn’t breathe out. Each time he breathed in the pain hit his lungs like it was exploded, expanding beyond its capacity, painful, but it was the sting of pain that kept reminding him that he was in the real world and not trapped in his dreams, this was real.

This was real, though he still could feel the cold air on his face, the snow enveloping his body, the excruciating pain in his arm, and the warm blood coloring the pale snow. Steve stretching his arm to reach him, to pull them back in the train and failing when the bar he was holding onto give in and he fell to the emptiness. Death was waiting for him on the ground. Except that it wasn’t Death down there, it was Hydra, and Bucky was much alive to be able to tell it. He survived that deadly fall, and Hydra kept him alive for the past seventy years in cryo, only reanimating him when they needed the perfect soldier to do their dirty work.

It’s a fresh night, though Bucky still can feel a drop of sweat rolling down his spine from his nervousness and the anxiety that came over him during the dream. That was a memory, the one when he was captured when his fate was signed and he had no option than to become the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t given a choice, someone simply decided to take his life from him, to take away his free will, and just now after decades, he was free. He could build a life for himself, a tough one, but he still could do it, he could manage it without hurting anyone. His eyes find the mark on his wrist again, and a warm feeling blossoms inside his chest. Hope, he acknowledges, even though his chances are little to find his soulmate if he still had one, he allows himself to feel it, to feel anything he want it because he spent way too much time without feeling anything, and he deserved to feel now.

He glances at the clock, 4:05 A.M. Bucky knows he’s not going to fall asleep again, but he allows his body to relax under the soft couch, trying to convince it that he was safe, he does not run away anymore, at least for now. Levi leaves early in the morning, after listening to Bucky telling him about those nightmares he’s been having, which the internship says that’s probably because of some trauma he has been through. The guy is kind to him, available to listen to him, and telling him he could call him if he needs anything or if he does not feel good about something, he also tells Bucky there is food in the fridge, he just needs to put it in the microwave. Bucky does not ask him what is a microwave.

That’s how Bucky’s routine during a week. Help Levi with homework, and mostly, Bucky spends his free time reading, to catch up on the newspaper Levi left on the table for him every morning, and the books the younger man recommended him. Eventually, he teaches Bucky how to turn on the TV, and Bucky looks fascinated by the colors and the images that the machine provides him, all of these modern things are incredible and he felt ecstatic and eager every moment he learns something new about this world and how it works. That morning the TV is on while Levi and Bucky are preparing breakfast, the news caught Bucky‘s attention when the journalist mentions Captain America’s exposition at the Smithsonian Museum.

“Is this Smithsonian far from here?” Bucky asks.

“Not, not at all. You can leave you there if you want,” Levi answers, and Bucky shifts the weight from a leg to another, wondering if he might be bothering his host. “I pass by every day, it’s nothing,” the younger assures him.

As promised, Levi drops him at the Smithsonian. The place is crowded, apparently, everyone was as curious as him to know more about Captain America’s life, though he did not come here because of Captain Rogers, he was there because of Sergeant Barnes. He sees his face stamped beside Steve’s, a younger version of him, then he stands in front of a panel, his face is also stamped on it with information about him, his birth date, his family, his trajectory in the U.S.A. army, his death. It was sort of comical that people here thought of him as a war hero when all Bucky could think of himself now was the assassin he was.

Bucky stays there only the necessary time he needed to assimilate all the information about him. He wants to know who he was, the son and friend he used to be before becoming this broken piece. That night, Levi brings him a journal.

“What is it?” Bucky asks when Levi handed him the black journal, an orange ribbon falling between the page.

“It’s for you to register your memories, so you’ll know who you are, well you were, every time you read it,” Levi says.

Bucky nods, accepting the journal, looking at it for a while, thrilled by the small gestured.

“Thank you,” he says, for what must be the thousandth time that week. Levi simply patted him on the back.

Once more, it was the TV that caught his attention, when the journalist mentioned the incident in the Triskelion, at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, a week ago, which is not surprising, that has been all over the news during the last week, but it’s the mentioned of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team and a face he has seen before. Brock Rumlow. Bucky remembered seeing him along with Pierce at Hydra’s base, Bucky feels the anger coming up, and it must have shown on his face.

“Do you know him?” Levi asks, his eyes watching Bucky carefully. The man didn’t want to be related to anything about S.H.I.E.L.D., much less Hydra.

“No,” Bucky denies it, frowning to hide his anger, and he feels bad to be lying to Levi, a man who had helped him so much. “No. He looks that kind of bad guys,” Bucky adds, and Levi nods agreeing with him.

Bucky’s gaze goes back to the photo of Rumlow on te the TV, an odd feeling of revenge pops up in his chest. Hydra has been ruining his life since the Second World War, held him prisoner, torture and experimenting on him, it needs to stop, he’s fed up with this whole thing, with this fascist organization; suddenly, Bucky finds a purpose, a new mission, he will find Rumlow and puts this guy in jail, where he and all those remnants if Hydra deserves to be. However, Bucky is well aware that he can’t do it on his own and risk being hold captive by Hydra again.

Which Bucky needs is someone good at this kind of job, he needs someone to help him to find Rumlow and get his revenge. He needs a spy, the best one, and the memory of a red-haired woman appears in his mind. He had seen her before that whole thing happened in Washington, it was a long time ago, Bucky wasn’t sure how long, but he knew he had met her once. That day, she was in the bridge, those flaming hairs were familiar.

“Can you help me with something?” Bucky asks Levi who nods in agreement. “I remember this woman, red hair, I can’t remember her name, but… she used to work for this agency, S.H.I.E.L.D., right?” Levi nods, getting on his feet to get his laptop on the table. “I think I might know her.” Bucky watches when his turn on the laptop, opening a new tab on Google.

“I think you may mean Black Widow from the Avengers,” Levi clarifies, at the confused face that Bucky did, he adds. “That’s how people call her.”

Levi types Black Widow on Google, and pictures of the red-haired appear on the screen, that’s her, and she’s the woman for the job. He reads her name on the screen, Natasha Romanoff.

“You know Black Widow? That’s cool!” Levi says excited, Bucky shrugs, not sure on how to answer. Bucky needs to find her, checks if she was willing to help him in chasing Rumlow, that slippery bastard, would she help him after he shot her twice, would she? Bucky didn’t know, but he needs to try, she is the perfect person to help him to accomplish his last mission. That’s why he goes after her. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of Levi was inspired by Levi Schmidt from Grey's Anatomy, I like to believe that Bucky had someone to help him for a while before he settled down and keep his life by himself.  
> Also,  
> Do you guys prefer short or long chapters?  
> By short, I mean 2-3K words, and long, well, +4K.


	3. We found each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while but it's finally here.  
> I promise there'll be more action in the next chapter.

“I need your help, please.”

A shiver goes up Natasha’s spine when she hears those words. Those five words are embedded on her wrist from the moment she was born. It’s not like she hasn’t heard the words before in other situations, which always let her freak anxious. Right now, though, she was afraid that the bond does happen, even though, Natasha wants to find her soulmate, she just did not expect to meet hers twice before without even knowing it. She did not expect hers would shot her twice formerly.

Natasha keeps her gun aiming to the Winter Soldier, she is very careful with what she’s going to say next, aware that the next words could seal their fate, so the words coming out slowly and hesitant from her mouth.

“For what?” Natasha asks, and before the man can answer her, she felt it, and curiously she knows that he feels it too.

Her pulse tickles, Natasha puts the gun down to look at it by herself, seeing that Barnes is already looking at his, the words, formerly black, are now shining in silver light. The bond is made and Natasha never thought that the Winter Soldier, or Bucky Barnes, a man who was born 60 years before her, could ever be her soulmate. It seems ironic how fate was always pulling them to each other in violent ways.

“Fuck,” she curses. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She turns to look at Bucky again, her lips parted in surprise, that all was really unexpected. His blue eyes widened in shock, his metal hand holding his wrist, it took him a minute or two to notice that Natasha was looking at him, then he hides his wrist against his stomach, swinging his weight from a leg to another, and Natasha can feel his discomfort. It feels like a presence on the background of her being, she is well aware that it will be like this from now on. They will always feel each other and the waves of emotions floating between them.

She recalls the myth, the purpose of the words, they used to be one. Complete. But the humans’ ambition for power made the greeks gods fight and when they won, they didn’t forgive, they didn’t forget. They separated them. They were damned by Zeus to spend their lives trying to find their other half and connect with them, the words embedded on their wrist are supposed to help them in that difficulty and almost endless task. Honestly, with seven billion people on the planet, most people didn’t expect to find their soulmates. It looks like Natasha is a lucky one, though.

Bucky takes a step forward, and Natasha finds herself aiming to the Winter Soldier again, no, wait, to her soulmate, that’s right. It wasn’t a law, but people knew that they shouldn’t hurt their soulmate because it weakens the bond, guess what? Theirs were weak before they even know it since Bucky shot her twice. Still, the universe believes they are meant to be. Sucks. Bucky raises his arms showing his empty hands, and Natasha can’t help but take a glance at his wrist, they’re definitely there marked in silver now, a reminder that the bond is sealed. 

“S-sorry, I--” Bucky takes a long breath before continuing. “I mean no harm, I’m sorry. I-I really do need your help, I-I-, please.” he stutters.

Natasha walks in his direction apprehensive, she keeps her gun down, then she is fumbling on his clothes looking for any hidden weapons. She knows how easy it is to hide a blade between the layers of clothing, of course, by experience. She didn’t want to take any risks, although Bucky’s metal arm itself was already a weapon. Fuck, the whole guy with the super-soldier serum running through his veins was a weapon, he was turned in a weapon, as she was once. It was odd how he looked so frail now, so frightened about everything around him. This man who had committed a dozen assassinations on the last fifty years, right now he looks incapable of hurting an insect. He… he is broken, Natasha thought.

And he should be, his whole world was taken from him, his memory, his friends, his family, Hydra took everything from him and molded him into an assassin, a ghost story. Natasha knew the feeling of discovering the real you, she lived it once when she discovered how the Red Room has manipulated her memories, making herself believe in things that never were real. She knew the feeling of being… broken, then having to fight to find out who you really are.

That’s why she is willing to help him, she got red on her ledger and she needs to redeem herself, two broken pieces could be remended if they have each other. She finishes fumbling on his clothes, sure that he’s clear, then she stands up in front of him and their eyes met for a single second, a discharge of electricity passing between the two of them before Natasha snaps her eyes to the empty alley.

“Come,” she calls him. “Don’t say anything here, let’s go.” She makes a move with her chin to indicate that he should go on first, and he does not hesitate to follow her commands without question. When he turns his back, then Natasha notices a black bag on it. She doesn’t say anything but keeps an attentive eye for every movement Bucky does.

Natasha probably shouldn’t reveal where her temporary place in Washington is to a mass killer, therefore, she doesn’t have an option better than it. So she leads him all the way, telling him when to turn right or left until they are in front of the building. It’s time for the doorman change of shift, meaning that there is no one to see them coming in. Natasha takes the stairs, in a building with an elevator, the stairs are always empty so less chance to meet someone on their way up.

Once they reach the fifth floor, they follow down the long corridor, stopping at the third door on the left, Natasha looks for the keys on her pocket, inserting them on the lock and opening the door, letting Bucky gets in first before she closes the door on her back. This is one of S.H.I.E.L.D. safety apartments, or used to be since the organization no longer existed, placed in strategic points of the city to observation.

Bucky stands in the middle of her living room, his dirty boots on the clean carpet, when he turns around to face her she already has the gun on her hands again. He does not look surprised by the act.

“What’s in the bag?” Natasha asks, taking a few steps forward. Bucky reaches for the bag on his back. “If you try anything, I swear I won’t hesitate.” She adds, and he gives her a melancholic smile.

“I know. I know you have all the reasons to pull the trigger,” Bucky says, opening the zip and dropping all his belongings on the carpet, most of it, journals, Natasha moves the items with the tip of her leathered boot to reveal a few clothes and some basic hygienic items, nothing alarming.

Natasha puts the gun back on the waistband, and moves to the open kitchen, never giving her back to the soldier, she won’t risk it just because he’s unarmed. 

“Are you hungry? Want something?” Natasha asks politely, indicating a box of pizza she bought earlier, she took a slice of cold pizza and started to eat. Bucky is collecting his stuff from the floor and shakes his head, he leaves the bag on where he dropped it and approaches her. “You sure?” she insists, and Bucky ends up taking a slice timidly when Natasha is quickly moving to her second. Natasha watches as he looks around the apartment, his eyes falling on her baggage next to the couch.

“Are you leaving?” Bucky asks, there’s an urgency tone in his voice that keep Natasha alerted, the last thing she needed is Barnes turning all into the Winter Soldier. Natasha shrugs nonchalantly.

“ I blew all my covers, I got to go figure out a new one,” she says. He does not say anything, chewing his pizza quietly, Natasha put her weight in one of her legs, leaning on the counter in front of him, the change caught him out of guard while he leans back avoiding any approximation. “What do you want, Barnes?”

Natasha does not take her eyes off him, watching patiently while he finishes his pizza, observing his body language, the way he moves uncomfortably on his seat, and a drop of sweat comes down on his temples. Odd for a fresh night, but comprehensible to the level of nervousness and stress he seems to be through, also, it was clear he didn’t have too much social interaction in those past years.

“I need your help,” he answers simply. Natasha restrains herself to roll her eyes.

“I got that, dumbass,” Natasha sighs longly before turns around and takes a seat next to Bucky.

“That guy who has been showing on news. Rumlow. I saw him once at the Hydra’s base, he--he was there when they brainwashed me when I recognized Steve.”

“Wait, did you recognize Steve?” Natasha said perplexed by the revelation, then Bucky nods in agreement and Natasha really pays attention to what he’s been saying, noticing his sad eyes, he looked miserable and thinner than she remembered in the bridge. “Right, Rumlow. We’ve been chasing him since his body wasn’t found. What’s about him?”

“A man like him… He’s dangerous. Hydra has a vast network of people around the world, they must be planning something, I don’t know. I know that I can’t let someone like him walking around,” Bucky finishes.

“You want revenge,” Natasha concludes, not surprised at all. 

“I wanna stop Hydra in the ways I can,” there is an intense, determined fire burning behind those blue eyes of his that somehow make Natasha wants to follow him and bring down the whole thing. Fix the system, even though it’s impossible. “I don’t want revenge against Rumlow, I don’t give a fuck about him, sorry. I want revenge against Hydra for what they’ve done for me.”

“Yet you have no leads,” Natasha says, crossing her legs, and facing him. “Will you feel good about it when it’s done?”

“I don’t know, Natasha,” Barnes sighs, bouncing his leg anxiously. “I know revenge is not the answer, but I can’t let them make what they did to me with others, they tried, trust me, but they died one by one. I can’t let them kill anybody else. I already have too much innocent blood on my hands,” it sounds like a plea, Natasha acknowledges the desperation on his tone. He wants to do this right.

Natasha knows that feeling. Both of them got red on their ledger and they needed to fix it. The truth is, there was no way to fix it, they couldn’t give back the lives they took, no amends could be done. But they were both victims who had no powers and had their path chosen by others, and now. Now, they were fully awake and ready to destroy them. They created weapons without knowing that one day they would gain consciousness and be ready to bring them down, the Winter Soldier and Black Widow would bring the ruins to them.

“Alright, then. If I’m gonna help you then you have to follow my rules, we’re clear?” Natasha declares, retaking her speech once he nods. “You do what I say, do not contest my orders, don’t act recklessly. And I really hope you don’t go all Winter Soldier during the mission,” she sighs exasperated. “The guns stay with me, you clearly know how to handle yourself in body combat, you’ll have to work if that. Also, just because we’re soulmates,” Natasha points to his wrist, and Bucky quickly holds his with his metal hand, covering the words ‘for what’ from her sight, which is completely useless since the bond is completed. “It doesn’t mean I trust you, okay? And you shouldn’t trust me either. Don't think that just because of this stupid bond, something will happen between us, am I clear?”

Bucky nods, he does not say a word after that, and Natasha is not sure if it’s because of her nonchalance. She doesn’t care, or she tells herself that she doesn’t, he was her soulmate, after all, she had waited long enough to meet him, plus, soulmates do not always have to be romantically involved, they could be… friends, as Steve liked to call it.

“Where have you been? What you’ve been doing this whole time you’re gone?” Natasha asks, and she regrets the moment the words leave her mouth, those are not questions of someone who doesn’t care, still, she can’t deny that she’s curious. After Bucky pulled Steve out of the lake, no one had seen or heard about the Winter Soldier, the guy simply disappeared, and yet here it was James Barnes standing in front of her. Plus, she’s a spy, and information, no matter how little it was, were precious, they are Natasha’s bargaining chip.

“I-I met this guy, Levi, actually, he almost ran over me,” Natasha raises a brow, surprised that the super-soldier Hydra’s weapon was almost killed by a car, really? She doesn’t say anything, though. Bucky frown, then he keeps going. “He… he kinda helped me. Gave me a place to sleep until I could remember… about… my family, friends, anything. And food. He’s a nice young man, kind of a doctor, I guess.”

“Wow, nice guy, then. Does he know who you are?” she is serious, even though the Winter Soldier is considered a ghost story, there are some who believes he is real and would probably attempt to get revenge if they got the chance.

“I don’t think so. I-I don’t remember much either. About myself.” Bucky replies.

“You remembered enough to pull Steve out of the water,” Natasha recalls him, noticing a soft change in his posture and the brightness in his eyes that she can’t identify outright. Regret? Sadness? She can’t tell it and it intrigues her the way he can hide his emotion so easily from her. She’d bet in regret.

“I can’t remember chronologically, but… I remember a few things about our childhood,” Bucky admits.

“He’s looking for you. He won’t stop, you know, he’s your best friend,” Natasha says.

“I know,” he says sounding more like a distant whisper.

“Still, you came after me. Why?” Natasha is straightforward. Bucky sighs like he had expected that she would ask such a question and he should be prepared for that.

“I knew you'd help me. I don't know how I just knew it. I--I remembered you in Iran,” Bucky makes a pause, as he had to recover his breathing before finally say it out loud. “I’m sorry for the shot, I--” Bucky points to her belly, and Natasha’s hand immediately rests on it, now it’s him who is making her uncomfortable, and she doesn’t like this sensation.

“It wasn’t you. Not you. Hydra’s fault,” Natasha mutters, standing up. She points to the couch, organizing a few cushions against its arm. “You can sleep here. Tomorrow I’ll try to get any information about Rumlow. Don’t even think about…”

“I won’t do anything, Natasha,” Bucky says firmly, his blue eyes met her green ones, somehow, she knows he’s saying the truth. Damn bond.

“Okay. Good night, then,” she says, not waiting to his answer on her way to the bedroom.

Natasha closes the door behind her back, and leans back against the mahogany door, sliding till she’s sitting on the floor, untying her leather boots and putting them aside, looking to the spot where she placed them for a while before rubbing her hands on her face and tugging her hair to the point where her scalp hurts.

Shit. Shit. Shit. She must be dreaming, it can’t be happening. The whole situation was unbelievable, unthinkable, extremely surprising. The man who she was supposed to track just knock on her door asking for help, and he also turns to be her soulmate. James Buchanan Barnes, born 67 years before her, declared dead in 1945, taken and brainwashed by Hydra for seventy years, was her soulmate, who also happens to try to kill her twice. It all sounds like a fucking dream or nightmare? That was just too crazy to be true, but after what Natasha had witnessed in Manhattan two years ago, everything seems possible. Natasha pinches her arms, ouch. That’s real. Yeah, fate is such a bitch.

Now, she has a ninety-seven-years-old man sleeping on her couch asking for her help to find a Hydra killer which body never was found under the debris. That couldn’t be a coincidence. However, she didn’t trust in Barnes, how can she be sure that he wasn’t leading her to a trap? She only knew what she read in the files and what Steve told her, so apparently, Barnes was a WWII hero, but how much does he remember about that? Not much, Natasha supposed, which leaves her with nothing, and she didn’t like not knowing. She probably should call Steve and leave him to deal with that, but she also wants to find Rumlow, his whereabouts has been intriguing Natasha since day one.

That basically leaves Natasha with two options, warn Steve about Barnes or follow in a journey with a man who should be dead long ago. They say the big decisions don’t take the easier way, well, then Natasha is picking Barnes in a hunt for Rumlow. A piece of cake, or not. She stands up, unbuttoning her jeans, and quickly getting rid of her shirt throwing it somewhere on the bedroom floor before going to the ensuite, her hair torn in a bun.

This is not her apartment, it’s all already furnished following a strict rule for minimalistic decoration, and the simplicity of the place pleases her, though. The warm water runs through her body, relieving the tension on her shoulders with the help of the rosemary scent from her soap, the calming scent invading her nostrils. The sensation of looseness conducts her to a sleeping state. Then Natasha is laying on her bed looking to the ceiling, and when she blinks again the sun is coming up according to the flashes of light peeking through the curtains.

She gets ready for the discovering, promising day ahead of her, her brain preparing and organizing a mental list of places she must go today to get any lead on Rumlow. Natasha is surprised when she opens her bedroom door and finds Barnes sat on the couch, using a knee as support for the journal on his lap and a pencil on his other hand. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his shoulders tensed up for the fear of being caught in blatant. Natasha observes the scene from her door for a while, Barnes’ face twisted in a grimace like someone solving math’s problems. It’s only when Natasha makes noise with her shoes on the corridor that he stops what he’s doing, hiding the journal on his black bag, though the pen is still visible in his hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Natasha asked when she noticed that Barnes has been up, apparently, all night, the bags under his eyes were so dark meaning that he hasn’t been sleeping too much for longer than she thought. 

“No. Memories come back, then I wake up,” Bucky explained as Natasha pours milk in a glass to herself, sipping a bit of it and putting some cookies into her mouth, not the best breakfast, but it would keep her up. “A-are you leaving?” The way he asks it makes Natasha looks up at him, a furrow on his face as he bites his bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll get some information about Rumlow, I know someone that might help us,” Natasha says as if it’s nothing, she also doesn’t understand why the hell she’s explaining herself to Bucky, in another occasion she’d just tell him to fuck off, it must be something related to the bond, this connexion pulling them closer than Natasha would like. “You’re not coming.” She declares as soon as she saw the question forming in Bucky’s lips.

“Thought I was the one who wanted to find him here,” Bucky recalls.

“Yeah, but I’m the one giving the orders here, soldier,” Natasha raises a brow, defying him to question her, however, he just sighed disappointed and frustrated. It was better this way, she does not need James Barnes going crazy when she’s collecting information about a Hydra killer out there. “We can’t risk you being seen or recognized out there.”

Bucky hummed, clearing not accepting this justification. It was obvious he was eager, for some reason, to find the leader of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team.

Natasha took the rest of the milk in only one gulp, and closed the cookies jar, though she left it on the counter in case Barnes wanted some.

“There’s food in the fridge,” she says, checking her gun and hiding it again, looking to herself in the mirror next to the door to make sure no one could see she was carrying a gun around. “Don’t wait for me for lunch.” Bucky nods.

“Fine,” he muttered. Natasha got a sunglasses and turned her keys on the locker. “Natasha,” Bucky calls from the couch, which makes her turn to watch him over the sunglasses. “Be careful,” he said, looking a bit shy for his tone.

“Okay, you too,” she said, closing the door behind her back and letting Bucky stuck in the apartment.

-

Natasha wasn’t sure if she would have any information or even footages, but she was hoping she did when she knocked on Maria Hill’s door early in the morning. She should’ve texted to her, but this kind of thing was something that Natasha wouldn’t confide information through techs, so no texts, calls, or e-mail, she had to come by herself. Hill opened the door looking surprised and confused by Natasha’s presence when the agent shouldn’t be here, a mug of a hot liquid in her hands, at first she didn’t say anything, just step aside to Natasha coming in, looking to both side of the corridor to make sure no one has seen Agent Romanoff come in, and Natasha was very careful to avoid any security cameras in the building.

“I thought you were overseas by now,” Hill said, locking the door.

“Something came up,” Natasha says, stirring in a funny sculpture on a shelf. “I need any information you got about Rumlow’s whereabouts. I know the body wasn’t found, so I suppose he’s alive and what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D. is hiding it, as well as you’ve been hiding that Agent Phill Coulson is not dead since the battle of New York.” Natasha tells her, a crooked smile on her face.

This time, Maria Hill doesn’t look surprised, like she expected that Natasha would have acknowledgment about classified information like that. Agent Romanoff was good at taking information from others and acting like she knew nothing.

“I have my sources,” Natasha admits. “So, what do you have for me? Any footage, file, anything? I bet you do have.”

“You shouldn’t know about it. You’re not even a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent anymore,” Hill profers, sipping a bit of the liquid. Tea, Natasha thought. “Why all of sudden you got this interest in Rumlow’s case? I thought you were going after the Winter Soldier.”

“Well, we have to work with what we can reach, right? The guy is a ghost, no one will find Barnes if he doesn’t want to be found,” Natasha wasn’t willing to let S.H.I.E.L.D. discovers that Bucky Barnes was closer than they thought. Anyway, she felt this feeling of protecting the guy who tried to kill her. It was the bond, Natasha told herself. It was that fucking stupid bond. “So?” Natasha pushes. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has been looking for any survivors from S.T.R.I.K.E. team, some suffered terrible burns, we suppose Rumlow was one of them, we captured two last week, they didn’t tell us anything useful about HYDRA, well, they had suicidal pills on them. These people are willing to die for the cause, Natasha.” Maria tells her, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, I see. But not Rumlow, he doesn’t look a suicidal guy. He’s smart,” Natasha says, turning around to face the other agent.

“Sorry, we don’t have much either, why you’re interested in this, anyway?” Hill asks again.

“He owes something to my client,” Natasha shrugs. “Doesn’t this guy you captured didn’t really say anything else?”

Maria Hill shrugged, and Natasha sighed frustrated, she has nothing here. How the hell she would find this guy? It could take months or years to have a steady lead on him, and James doesn’t look the type who would wait years, he would just leave and track the man by himself. It wasn’t a good idea to leave the Winter Soldier loosened out in the world.

“Well, he said the same bullshit ‘cut one head and two will takes its place’, said HYDRA’s projects couldn’t be shut down like that. Insight wasn’t over and a new generation was coming. Honestly, he looked completely out of his mind,” Hill specified, something about what she said caught Natasha’s attention.

“Wait, Project Insight isn’t over? Is that what he implied?” Natasha asked to make sure she heard correctly.

“Apparently. I don’t know how they’d make it happen if the hellicarriers were destroyed,” the agent inquired. “It’s HYDRA, though, we can’t underestimate them.”

“Well, I’m surely not,” Natasha said, heading to the door. “Thanks for helping.”

“Natasha--” Hill stood up following the redhaired to the door. “You shouldn’t work alone in a search for Rumlow, S.H.I.E.L.D. is working on it too, Agent Coulson--”

“Well, I’m not on my own, if that’s what you worried about. And I don’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D.” Natasha cut her off, a hand on the knob.

“You’re a friend, Natasha, you can count on me,” Hill declared right after Natasha opened the door and head to the emergency exit.

“Glad to hear that. I can perfectly get by on my own.” That was the last thing Natasha said before running down the stairs, her head trying to link the dots from the pieces of information she had.

If Project Insight was still up, then how the hell they were planning to put it in action? She needed to stop it, find Rumlow because he surely was still working under HYDRA’s order, even though Natasha had no idea who was ruling the HYDRA’s base now.

Natasha gets in the car and drives to the last location Rumlow was seen, S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

There were still machines working on the place, digging into the debris of the Headquarters. There wasn’t much to look for now, in the first days of excavation, they find some bodies, most were identified, but some were only ashes from the fire that started in the forty-first floor and spread quickly in the building. Natasha kicked a rock in the middle of her way.

“Hey, you can’t be here,” a man shouts, and Natasha looks up, the man was wearing a helmet of protection, it was clear he only worked in the cleaning of the debris. Natasha smiles as innocent as she could, shoving her hands on the pocket and approaching the man who is holding a clipboard.

“Morning, sir. You found anything new under the debris?” Natasha asked curiously, batting her eyelashes almost innocently to the man. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Hum? No, nothing, just broken machinery, hum, nothing,” the man swallows pass the gulp on his throat, taking one tissue out of the pocket of his shirt and using it to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

“No? Hum, the injured and the dead, do you know where were they taken?” Natasha tried again, determined to get a useful answer, anything that could help her.

“I believe they were taken to the next hospital, ma’am. Did anyone from your family use to work here?” the man asks, signing a paper another worker brought to him. Natasha’s eyes sweep through the document, but there’s nothing relevant to what she’s looking for.

“Yeah, sort of,” Natasha answers, looking around one last time. “Thank you.” She walks away, frustrated, heading for a new destination.

-

Sometimes Natasha couldn’t believe in the level of people’s stupidity, not their fault, though, Natasha was trained to manipulate and persuade anyone, using everything on her power. She was a good liar, and definitely good at acting as she knew everything even if she didn’t. She learned still early that information was a valuable bargaining chip, so Natasha was also a good listener to people, encouraging them to talk and open up until she had something. Something she could trade.

So, she let the nurse she aborded on the burn unit talks, complaining about the fact that she has been on the night shift too many times during the week since that building blows up, and more injured are coming, those with burns requested more attention and care, The woman was simply exhausted, working overnight and having to take care of her two kids when she got home because her husband was useless and couldn’t keep the kids away from the kitchen, she was pretty certain the next to blow up would be her house. Natasha listened to all the rigmarole, a sympathetic smile on her face while she nodded once in a while. Then, she took off her phone and showed a picture of Rumlow to the woman, asking if she had seen him around.

“Oh, yes. He was one of the first to get here, no one from his family showed up, though, if he still had family, I don’t know,” the nurse shrugged, then made a sign for Natasha to come closer, which the redhaired did gladly. “I shouldn’t say this, ‘coz it’s confidential information, but you seem to be his friend or girlfriend, I don’t know, you’re the only who came looking for him, so I assumed…” Natasha nodded encouragingly. “He came here with several burns second and third degree, he seemed to being hallucinating or dreaming, didn’t stop mumbling about a certain medication, I guess, that he needed to go to California, something like that.” the nurse concludes, sighing longly before taking a large gulp from her coffee already cold in her hands.

“Oh God,” Natasha sighs, sounding as much worried as she could. “I-I’ve come the fastest I could when I heard about what happened, I was overseas, and Brock--Is he still here?”

“Oh, yeah, darling, I understand,” the nurse stretches her hand to hold Natasha’s giving a comforting squeeze. “Well, as I said, your friend is creepy. No, no, he left by himself. Probably sneak out during the shift change, slippery bastard, don’t know how he could pass through our security system,” the woman cursed. “Well, I hope you find him, his burns are severe and he needs medical care.” she pursed her lips in concern.

“Yes, sure. I’ll find a way to get in touch with him,” Natasha reassures the woman. “Thank you, I really appreciate your help and concern towards him. He means a lot to me.” Natasha squeezes the woman’s hand back and slides an envelope over the counter to her. The nurse’s eyes widened, her jaw drops a bit.

“Oh no, darling, you don’t need--” the woman waves her hands clumsily.

“I insist, you helped me a lot, let me help you back, consider it as a gift for all the nights you took care of Brock, and had to leave your kids. It’s nothing.” Natasha smiles and blinks to the nurse, satisfied when she takes the envelope and muttered a single ‘thanks’ under her breath.

Natasha turned her back, rushing to the elevator, organizing the information she has collected along the day in some way to make sense into her head. Right, so Rumlow, apparently, headed to California after run away, eerily unseen from the hospital, in search of a medication, which Natasha had no ideas about its purposes, and, of course, Project Insight wasn’t shut down as they thought, she was coming to a conclusion that does not look good. Nothing related to HYDRA was good, in fact, but if what she was putting together was right, then a great number of people would be at risk, innocent people, this was about to become a bloody and dangerous war.

Natasha was grateful that the location of S.H.I.E.L.D. apartment was discreet because she didn’t like to draw attention to herself, mainly, when she was in mission mode, she liked to act in a furtive way, watch around. The main entrance of the building was empty around lunchtime when she finally got home, earlier than she thought she’d be.

Bucky was sat on the couch as she had left him in the morning, except now he was bathed, in a clean set of clothes and his hair was attached in a ponytail, giving Natasha better visibility of his face, and the first thing she noticed was the dark bags under his eyes, salient on his pale skin, Natasha gulped uncomfortably, though, she didn’t understand why. He turned on her direction right away when she was in, stopping whatever he’s been doing, Natasha also noticed a new journal on his lap.

“Hey,” Natasha says.

“Hey,” Bucky replies, putting his hair behind his ear. “I thought you said I shouldn’t wait for you for lunch.”

“Hum, have you eaten breakfast? I-it’s lunchtime, I should order something, I haven’t gone in the grocery for quite a while now, I guess,” Natasha explains, moving to the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water.

“I’m fine,” Bucky says, his attention going back to the journal, but Natasha observes by the way he’s bouncing his leg that he’s expecting her to mention something.

“Okay, I’m gonna order something, then we talk, okay?” Bucky nods in agreement. “Do you have any restriction or allergy?” Natasha asks, already checking the iFood options. 

“No. Not as far as I can remember,” Bucky shrugs, and Natasha mumbles ‘Sorry’.

“‘kay, done. It must get here in 30 minutes or less, I hope,” Natasha shoves her phone inside a pocket, crossing the room and opening a drawer taking out a used phone, less advanced than hers but it should be a good option by now. “Do you know what is it?” Natasha shows off the phone, and Bucky takes his eyes from the journal to glance at her.

“A smartphone. Levi had one, and you too, guess everyone has one of this nowadays” he says promptly.

“Yeah, yeah, guess so, do you know how to use it?” Bucky scowls. “Right, not a problem, I can lead you through the basics.” Natasha sat next to Bucky on the couch.

“Are you--” the redhaired anticipated before he got the chance to finish his questions.

“If we're going to team up, then we have to stay in touch, right?” She says, a raised brow almost defiant and certainly defensive. “Come closer,” Natasha demands, already shifting to get closer to him, and putting the phone on his hands. “Turn it on.” the first steps to modern tech to a man who was born in the forties.

Natasha taught him enough when the delivery arrived, now Bucky knew how to save a contact, the first one was Natasha’s number, of course, how to call and text someone, he also opened the camera by accident and Natasha taught him how to take photos and explained him the idea of taking a selfie, during the tutorial, he has relaxed and even allowed himself to smile a little, watching him exhibiting a jovial air, somehow made Natasha’s heart a little bit warm. She blamed the soulmate bond between them.

“Rumlow is heading to California,” Natasha finally slips out once they finished their meal, going straight to the point that interested both of them. Bucky nods. “He left the hospital a few days ago, mentioned something about a certain medication, would you know something about it?”

Bucky frowned.

“No. I told you, I’ve seen him once in the HYDRA’s base escorting that fella,” he answers,

“Pierce. Alexander Pierce,” Natasha affirms. “Anyway, we’re leaving for California, better pack up, we leave after the sunset.”

“Alright. It’s not like I have much to bring with me,” Bucky mumbles as Natasha stands up, throwing the food packing in the trash. 

“Better put your phone to charge, then. It’s, at least, 3 days ahead. I’ll pack up,” Natasha declares, leaving Bucky alone once more.

-

They left after the sunset, as Natasha had promised, in a blue pickup truck. Natasha had her backpack on her feet, while Bucky was holding his tight against his chest. Natasha only knew that there are a few changes of clothes, journals, and now the smartphone inside his backpack, still it seems like he was holding it as if his life depended on it.

None of them was willing to talk, speaking occasionally about the weather, how things have changed since the forties or the songs playing on the radio, that Natasha turned on to fill the almost awkward silence, sometimes Bucky asked her questions about the 21st century, things about history, politics, and techs. Bucky Barnes looked eager to learn and comprehend this new world he was thrust in so abruptly after so many years of being held captive, and Natasha was willing to help him in this case.

Eventually, they stopped in a small city in the middle of the way to eat the peanut butter sandwiches Natasha has prepared and the apple juice boxes she brought along, it was just a quick halt she reminded Bucky when he left the car to relieve himself on the gas station bathroom.

“I’m back, as I told you, I’d be,” Bucky said, opening the door and accomodating himself in the passenger seat.

“Okay, good for you, then. I still don’t trust you, James,” Natasha affirmed, a sassy smile on her face. Bucky sighed, but he didn’t seem disappointed, he looked even comprehensible before her statement.

“Right, you’re right, I don’t even trust myself,” Bucky held his hands nervously, the metal hand reflecting the light from the streetlight outside. “You got a lead on Rumlow to California, how will we know in what city he is?”

“Easy, soldier,” Natasha scowls. “We’ll figure it out, eventually.” Natasha kept chewing her sandwich carelessly.

“Fair, and… This medication do we know anything about what it is? What is its purpose?” Bucky asked, talking more than usual, and Natasha’ears already seemed to recognize the sound of his voice and the nuances of doubts, fear, and self-loathing on it. Natasha took a deep breath to prepare herself to what she’s about to say next, say it out loud just made it more real.

“I’m not sure but…” she started. “I think Rumlow is after a biological weapon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	4. Our mission

Natasha drove until the clock showed it was 2:11 a.m., in fact, it was Barnes who suggested she should make a halt earlier, and Natasha didn’t listen to him until he said that she would get both of them killed if she didn’t stop. The redhaired had to agree with him since she woke up early, and she’s been driving for the last seven hours non-stop. Since there was no hotel or place around that they could pass the night, Natasha stopped the car in a supermarket parking lot, they’d sleep there tonight, and maybe another day they would sleep in a hotel if there got any luck.

“We gotta have a little faith in each other if we're gonna work together,” Bucky said when she stopped. She knew he was right, and she wanted to trust him. This stupid bond always pulling them together. Natasha wanted to believe him, then she just nodded, moving her seat back and putting her hoddie on as some kind of comfort.

The adrenaline effects diminished in the measure her body relaxed with nature and cold breeze blowing in the lot, and Natasha fell asleep right away, noticing that having her soulmate at her side involved her with the sensation of safety, which lullabying her into her sleep. The birds chirping were what drag her out of her slumber, the first rays of sun shining in the parking lot, Natasha yawned and stretched her arms as much as she could.

“It’s good that at least one of us got enough sleep,” Barnes muttered, and Natasha turned her head so fast in his direction that her neck cracked and she immediately lifted her hand to massage the spot. The sun was fully raised on Bucky’s side, the warm rays penetrating the window and warming the inside of the car. Barnes was scribbling something on his journals, this one had a soft blue cover, Natasha noticed, like his eyes, she thought, blue, like the ocean in a summer day.

“Hi,” Natasha said, and she felt dumb, God, she hated that feeling. “You didn’t sleep,” that wasn’t a question, it was a fact, the bags under his eyes looked the same as the day before.

“When I slept, I have these nightmares, they’re not cool,” Bucky states, closing the journal and leaving the pencil inside of it. Natasha furrows.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha started the car engine. “I know what it’s like,” it just slips out, easily like that, she wasn’t the kind that shares or opens up to anyone, but something inside her wanted to comfort Bucky, and she just let it out, because it was the truth, anyway. Natasha can’t remember how is the feeling of sleeping an entire night without nightmares to wake her up, she saw their faces on her sleeping, the people she killed while she was in the Red Room, and when she worked for KGB, and the aliens coming down from that wormhole in New York. Damn, she even saw Bucky shotting through her in her nightmare, which sends an electric wave to the scar on her sides.

“You’re hungry, hum?” Natasha asked, managing to smile, shaking her bad thoughts away and reminding herself that that was not Bucky, it was Hydra, not Bucky, she keeps repeating it to herself since the first night he shows up asking for help. Hydra, not the real Bucky Barnes.

A phantom of a smile appears on the corners of his lips, then he nods timidly. Natasha thought it was cute.

Thankfully, she does not need to drive so far to get them to breakfast. There is an apparent nice place on the side of the road a few miles away from the parking lot they spent the night. When she stepped inside, Natasha feels her phone chimes in her pocket but she just ignores it, whoever it was would have to wait until she finished her breakfast. The place smells like crispy bacon, and Natasha feels her mouth watered with the flavor, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was, those sandwiches from last night were nothing to her, and the supersoldier behind her must be as hungry as her, once his metabolism burned it faster than hers.

They pick a table in the bottom and corner of the place, so Natasha can see who’s coming in and out. Quickly, as they sat down a blonde girl shows up to take their order.

“Good morning, welcome to Amy’s Morning Breakfastest. May I take your orders?” The girl switches her glance between Natasha and Bucky with a large, fake smile, it was humanly impossible to someone be this happy at 06:12 a.m. Natasha almost wants to slap her when she lets her hoddie fall backward exposing her messy hair, then she glances at Bucky who is holding his gloved hand with his good one, he was nervous. Natasha can feel the tickling sensation through the bond.

“‘Morning, right, hum, I’d like a black coffee sugar free, please,” Natasha said, raising a questioning brow to Bucky who swiftly nods in accordance. “Two black coffees, please,” Natasha slides the menu on Bucky’s direction, Hydra had made choices for him almost his whole life, now that he was free he could make his own, even the simplest ones as choose what he’d get to breakfast. Natasha definitely would not take away his options.

Bucky gets the menu, his eyes sweeping the page, the anxiety rising in his chest while he reads the options.

“Can I have, hum, this bacon, eggs and cheese sandwich, please,” Bucky said low, swallowing past the formed lump on his throat, he puts the menu back on the table. Natasha can’t help the small smile on her face.

“That’s my favorite!” she exclaims. “Can you get me four of these?” Natasha asks, doubling Bucky’s orders since he was too shy to ask for more, but she knew very well that he would be hungry if he didn’t get enough food. The waitress looked at Bucky with a dumb smile on her face, which makes him shifts uncomfortably on his seat. Without second thoughts, Natasha holds Bucky’s hand on the table, feeling the warm heated of his skin, and the callouses fingers when she squeezes it softly. “Also, I’d like the double pancakes on the menu,” Natasha adds, sending a fake, fond smile to the girl who only nods before makes her way back.

“Are you okay?” Natasha furrows when Bucky slides his hand out of hers when the girl walks away.

“Yeah, I’m--” Bucky sighed. “All this interaction, I think I don’t know how to act around people nowadays,” he takes out his cap. “It makes me feel a stranger, uncomfortable somehow, I guess,” he finishes, turning his eyes to look at Natasha’s bright, green eyes. Natasha reaches for his hand again, holding it a little tighter this time.

“I can’t say I understand what you’re feeling because I don’t, but James, you’ll get over it someday. Right now, we’ll work on baby steps, then one day you won’t even need me to finish an order for you anymore,” Natasha smiles fondly and sincerely. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you have people to support you here.” Natasha mentally includes herself in this list. Bucky kept his look locked on her for a while.

“I know, I-I appreciate it, Natasha,” Bucky replied, and this time he didn’t take off his hand.

Natasha’s phone chimes again in her pocket, she reaches for it and the screen comes alive showing two unread messages from Tony, the screen blinks going a little darker and Natasha realized she hadn’t put her phone to charge last night.

“Shit,” she mumbled, unlocking the screen and touching on the messages when her phone turned off. “Shit.”

“Something’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“No, just forgot to charge my phone last night,” Natasha explained, trying to turn it on again, at least enough to read the messages, not getting any luck, she throws the phone back in her pocket.

“Well, if you need to call someone, you can use mine,” Bucky is holding the phone in front of her, fully charged since he does not seem inclined to use it a lot. “You gave me a phone, but I actually have no one that I wanted to call. Guess everyone I once knew is dead now. It looks a waste on my hands.”

“Not even Steve?” Natasha asked, curiously. “It’s not a waste, you just don’t have a use for it now,” she shrugged. Bucky would eventually be back in society soon, with people who could trust and count on, at least, that’s what Natasha expected.

After years being held by Hydra, all Bucky Barnes wanted was a little of normality. Finding Steve again, his best friend and the only person still alive he knew, and then maybe… Maybe he could build a life for himself, get in therapy to cope with all the shit he’s been through, then maybe one day we’d be able to talk with people without acting hypervigilant.

“I don’t know,” Bucky chews the inside of his cheek nervously. “I’m not the guy he used to know, Natasha.”

“People change, James. I’m sure Steve is not the same guy he was before he went in the ice. Seventy years, that’s a lot, and what you have to face, being held by Hydra,” Natasha looks away, remembering her own memories of the Red Room. “You’re a survivor, James,” Natasha leans back on the seat, retracting her hands but keeping them over each other on the table. “It wasn’t you, James, it was Hydra.” Natasha blinks, preparing herself to what she’s about to confess. “I-I’ve killed plenty of people too, but that was me, I knew what I was doing, you didn’t,” Natasha feels the tears prick on her eyes, and she looks down to her hands on the table, thanking God when the girl appears bringing their breakfast.

The girl deposits the food on the table, pouring them black coffee sugar-free as Bucky had ordered, then walking away.

“Natasha…” Bucky started.

“Don’t,” Natasha swallows hard. “Everybody has a past, ours are not pretty, we’re trying to…” Natasha puts two drops of sweetener on her coffee. “to patch up our lives, to make it right,” she takes a bit of her pancake, chewing extremely slow, then putting the fork back on the plate before lifting her cup to her lips. “I don’t judge people by their mistakes.” She says over the cup’s rim, and that’s the last piece of conversation they had during their breakfast time.

Natasha watched the sun getting high on the sky, and the people coming from the road for breakfast, mostly travelers like them. She watched Barnes eat the two bacon, eggs, and cheese sandwiches she ordered as well as the pancakes. Unlike her, Barnes didn’t put sugar or sweetener on his coffee, drinking it pure, hot, and bitter. Eventually, the sun hit its height on the sky highlighting their table; Natasha’s fingers quickly worked on a side braid on her hair as an attempt to disguised her messy, sleepy hair from early, her green eyes observed James’ move when he is looking outside, his blue eyes were pointed by green next to the pupils, depending on the light’s angle it looked more blue or green, and it makes her remember of the Lake Baikal in her birthed place, Russia. It’s been a long time since she went back to Russia, and here looking to James’ eyes, it felt like home again.

“You know,” Bucky turned his gaze to her, and Natasha flinches back on her seat, not noticing she’s leaned on the table to admire him. Bucky frowned but swiftly started to talk again. “It’s crazy the amount of food you have in here nowadays. I really don’t understand how people can waste it.”

“I guess wars are never easy. Do you remember it?” Natasha muttered, Bucky nodded. “How was it back then?”

“It wasn’t easy, you’re right. Even for those who had money, food was always missing on the market’s shelves. People used to stock food in the past, after the First World War, so we didn’t have to worry when the war began,” Barnes leaned forward, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “Then, we had to save it, eat a little less, or not eat at all just to have food for another day. I got lucky when I was enlisted, at least, the money would help my family and even Steve’s. His mother got sick, stopped working, and Steve was thin,” Bucky frowns and smiles as the memory of a thin Steve, somehow, was absurd. “I remember when Ma wrote telling that Steve was selling newspaper on the streets, God, I just wanted to punch that punk and drag his skinny ass back home,” the image of Barnes dragging a skinny Steve home, made Natasha laughed.

“He got the flu for being exposed to cold air, and Ma used the money I sent them to get him meds. I went back home a few weeks later, and he was doing a lot better. I couldn’t see him by myself, though. His mother was infected with tuberculosis and she was quarantined. Though, I used to take them food every day,” Barnes said. “When Mrs. Rogers died, he didn’t cry, he knew it was coming. I guess Steve spent so much time sick that he knew very well the feeling of death. Death would come one day, and it was okay for him.” Barnes sighed loudly and turned his gaze to the view outside. “Yeah, the war wasn’t easy but we learn about what matters when death is around us. He wanted to serve his country, he did it. I guess... I-I did it too.” His tone is melancholic, full of regrets.

“That’s a nice speech,” Natasha said, leaning forward. “You sound like an old man. A true war veteran.” Bucky smiles, and that’s the first time she sees his bright, genuine smile. “Okay, soldier, time to go,” Natasha told him, getting up and leaving a few dollars on the table while Bucky got his backpack, clinging at it as it was his whole life. Barnes never left that backpack behind, no matter where they go.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked, following in her heels to the car.

“Guess we just left Tennessee. One more day and we’ll be in California,” Natasha rolled the keys in her hands.

“And then?” Bucky said. “How we’re gonna find them? We have no idea where they are. California is a big state--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natasha put her hands on his broad shoulder, squeezing them slightly and comforting. “Don’t get all anxious about that, we’ll figure it out.”

That said, Barnes exhales longly, muttering something like ‘right, ya right’, even though he still seemed a little apprehensive when they got in the car. They didn’t talk for a while, Barnes kept his eyes looking out in the window, his lips pursed in a thin, worried line. Eventually, Natasha turned the radio on to fill the void, singing along the songs she knew. Music was something distant in her reality, she didn’t listen to it often, and when she did, most were classical music that makes she remembered from the Red Room and all its lies. Music remembers her from her roots, where she’s from, and sometimes, that was too angsty to handle. But not today, not when there’s a tug in the corner of Barnes’ lips when she mistakes the lyrics.

“You like music?” Natasha raises a brow.

“I don’t know about music nowadays, but you seem to like it,” Bucky replied, finally turning his gaze to her.

“Yeah, a little bit, I guess,” Natasha swallows. “It… doesn’t bring back good memories, generally,” she explained, grasping on the wheel.

“Why?”

Natasha sighed, keeping her eyes on the road, she wasn’t used to talking about her past or the Red Room with anyone, much less with her recently-found-soulmate.

“I was raised in the Red Room. It’s a soviet training program, they made who I am,” Natasha glances at him. “They implanted me with false memories, brainwashed me, and made me believe to be someone who never exits,” she concluded, not willing to continue this conversation.

“I’m sorry. I guess both of us didn’t get a word on how we’d want our future, hum?” Barnes said.

“Do you remember them?” Natasha asked out of nowhere, turning down the radio and looking at him. “The people you killed.”

“I remember all of them,” Barnes  faltered. “They come whispering in my dreams at night.”

“We’re fucked up, aren’t we?” A weak, discontent smile on her face, as Bucky muttered a ‘guess we are’ almost inaudible. “Would you kill him? Rumlow?” Natasha doesn’t know why she voiced it out loud like that, but she knew her answer, would she kill him? If he hurt someone she loves, then there was no reason to hesitate.

“One more kill, what differences does it make?” Bucky shrugged, sounding extremely bitter, then his eyes softened when he looked at Natasha. “You know, I feel like you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you,” he said, changing the subject.

“I only act like I know everything, James,” she admitted. “And I just told you about what happened to me, how I became who I am.” Natasha trailed off.

“I know, and I appreciated it, but I mean basic stuff like…” Bucky thought for a second. “What’s your favorite color?”

Natasha hit the brake, throwing them a little forward, a confused look on her face, and an unbelievable smile, she blinked a few times looking to his dumb smile.

“Sorry,” she muttered, stepping on the accelerator. “What? I’m just trying to make sure I listened to you correctly.”

“Why? Is that such an intimate question?” Bucky teased.

“Ha! You learned to tease now?” Natasha teased back with a large smile on her face.

“I had a good teacher,” he replied, and Natasha moved to hit him with an inoffensive punch on the ribs, which only made him laughed. “Seriously, what’s your favorite color? I guess mine is red, yeah, I like red.” He declared.

Natasha stared at him, and she couldn’t stop her hand to put his hair, covering part of his face, behind his ear, the gest caught him out of the guard, though he didn’t flinch or said anything about it.

“Red suits you,” she acknowledged. “Green, mine’s green. Light green as a newborn leaf during the spring.”

A curious feeling invaded her at sudden, and Natasha thought that she might like Bucky Barnes. He wasn’t that bad, she couldn’t judge him based on his past actions when he had no control over himself, no memory, nothing. Not when the same was once done with her, no, it has never been Barnes’s fault. The actual Barnes sat on her car was someone worth knowing. He looked more and more with the guy, which life was exposed in the Smithsonian. Fun, gentle, and charming. Yet, lost, confused, and in recovery.

When they finally made it through Arkansas, it’s already noon, and Natasha feels her stomach rumbling in protest for the too early breakfast she had. At first, she ignored it, convincing herself that she could handle it for a little longer, but when the headache kicks in, and a bitter taste invaded her mouth, she knew it was time to have lunch, otherwise, she’d probably pass out really bad.

“You’re hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” Natasha complained, glancing at Bucky who nodded in response. All at once, the silence wasn’t unbearable or uncomfortably between them as it was before, not when she got to know Barnes a little better. “Look, there’s a McDonalds there,” Natasha pointed to the other side of the road, where the big yellow and red signal surely didn’t pass unnoticed.

Natasha parked along with the other cars, the establishment was full as usual at lunchtime, when they got in Natasha held Bucky’s hands, feeling the callouses fingers intertwined in hers and warmness emanating from that simple touch. Natasha held it with a firm grip, knowing that the crowded place could unleash a panic attack in Bucky. She acknowledged that this new world was probably a bit too much for him, and she wanted him to know that she was there. The feeling of their intertwined hands just felt right, their hands fitted perfectly in each other, as they were made for it.

“Why don’t you get us a table?” Natasha suggested when they got in the line, noticing the tension on his shoulders, and the hypervigilant way he looked around. “James?” she called, putting a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention.

“Sorry. What did you say?” He blinked a few times before his eyes focus on her.

“Why don’t you get us a table?” Natasha repeated, letting her hand runs back and forth on his arm to soothe him. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” It sounds like a promise, she thought.

Bucky acquiesced and left her alone in the line, taking a table at the bottom of the fast-food. It probably took longer than five minutes, although Bucky didn’t complain about it when she hit the table, sticking the note under one of the available sauces.

“Well, I asked for the combo of the day for both us,” Natasha cleared. “That means a Big Mac, french fries, I got a large one for you, and a medium for me. And diet coke.”

“Okay.”

“Have you been to a McDonalds before?” Natasha leaned forward, curious.

“Hum, no. Guess I’m not properly inserted in the habits of people nowadays,” Bucky shrugged.

“Then, you need a proper introduction. You’ve been listening to the songs on the radio, right. Have you watched Harry Potter?” Natasha asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Not all of them. They’re eight movies, correct?” Bucky retorted, satisfied when Natasha confirmed with a nod.

“Titanic?”

“Isn’t that the one where the guy died even though both of them could fit perfectly on the piece of the door? Yeah, I read a lot of theories on the Internet.”

“Stars Wars?” Natasha continued.

“Hum, no?” Bucky raised a brow, and Natasha leaned back on her seat, horrified.

“We’re gonna binge-watch Stars Wars when we got home, you have no option,” she protested, making Bucky laughs. A bell sounded, drawing Natasha’s attention. “That’s our number.”

Bucky got the note and walked there for Natasha’s surprise who watched the whole interaction between Bucky and the attendant. Then, he put the tray in front of her and slid to his seat with his own tray.

“I won’t learn about nowadays habits if I don’t put myself in action, right?” Bucky said, putting a french fry in his mouth, and Natasha nodded proudly by his confidence. “You know, it’s weird that you’re the one paying for the food. I mean, for a guy from the forties, things used to work otherwise.” he waves his hand.

“For God’s sake, we are in the 21st century, things work pretty different now,” Natasha rolled her eyes, but he only laughed for her exasperation, giving a bitten on his hamburger, and chewing slowly.

“This tastes awful, really,” Bucky declared, pointing to the food on his hands, and twitching his nose. Now, it was Natasha’s time to laugh.

There wasn’t much conversation after that, both much starving to talk instead of eating, they still had the whole afternoon of traveling before a halt to sleep in someplace in the shore of the road. They ate in silence, and Bucky didn’t complain when Natasha stole some of his french fries. He seemed more relaxed around her now, although Natasha kept saying to herself to not trust him. The bond was always there, reverberating inside her and pulling her toward him, and she knew that she could trust Bucky to save her life, if it comes to it one day, the same way that a few weeks ago Steve trusted her to save his life. So, Natasha decided that she could call him a friend.

This time, it was Bucky who turned the radio on when they got back in the car. The news wasn’t interested, and after so many hours of staying sat with her hands on the wheel, Natasha felt the tiredness starting to fall over her, all she wished was a comfortable bed and fluffy pillows, her back couldn’t handle another day sleeping on the car seat, and her legs were numb for spending so much time in a sat position. However, she kept her eyes wide open, even though her eyelids were protesting for the little quantity of sleeping she got in the morning. Also, driving miles and miles made Natasha distracted to their fuel quantity.

“No, no, no,” Natasha shouts, gripping the wheel. “No, no, please, no. Damn it!” Natasha punched the wheel, frustrated.

Bucky looked at her without knowing what he could possibly do to help her, but Natasha was quicker.

“Give me your phone,” she stretched her hand, and Bucky placed the phone on it, watching her while she used the phone, right before exhaled even more frustrated. “The next gas station is two miles away.”

Natasha closed her eyes, scolding herself to be so careless.

“Natasha, I can push the car,” Bucky said, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing it in a comforting way, just like she had done earlier with him. Natasha opens her mouth to protest, but before she got the chance, Bucky is cutting her off. “It’s like for 30 minutes, don’t worry,” Bucky said, stepping out of the car.

Natasha turns to see Bucky going to behind the car, and pushing it easily. Damn, supersoldier serum, she thought. And for the first time since they left Washington, Natasha notices that Bucky left his backpack behind on his seat.

Turns out, Bucky is right, it took only 32 minutes to reach the gas station, and the soldier didn’t even look tired. Natasha filled the tank and went to the convenience store to pay, enjoying the moment to get mineral water bottles and even some bunch of  _ Kit Kats _ . When she exited, Bucky had his phone on hands, a furrow between his brows while he looked to the screen.

“Hey,” Natasha throws a bottle to him, which he catches in the air with his metal hand. “Something’s wrong?” she says, giving a bitten on her chocolate when she stopped next to him.

Bucky didn’t answer until he opened the bottle and drink a large gulp of water, almost half the bottle, she can’t blame him because walking two miles under the sun surely wasn’t easy. Bucky turned around and pointed to a spot far from there, where the cattails were high and a river passed not so far from the gas station, but still in a safe distance from the road.

“You’re seeing there?” he said, holding Natasha’s shoulder and turning her to the direction he was pointing. Natasha blinked trying to see what her regular eyes apparently couldn’t see, but a supersoldier could, it took a few seconds before she saw it, the pink feathers and the elegant posture.

“Is that… is that a flamingo?” she said, glancing behind her to see James who had a big grin on his face as he acquiesced. “Wow.”

“I tried to take a picture, but I think I’m not good at this yet,” Bucky shrugged.

Natasha pulled the phone from his hands, accessing the gallery to see a bunch of blur pics, and even some of Bucky himself taken by the frontal camera before he succeeded to switch the cameras. Natasha raised the phone, expanding the zoom to take a good picture of the flamingos there.

“Got it,” she said, walking in Bucky’s direction and showing the picture to him just to see his grin become wider when he got his phone back. “Here, you see that camera symbol up there? That’s where you switch the cameras,” Bucky touched where she indicated, opening the frontal camera showing both of them. “Also, you can touch the screen once to adjusts the focus,” he did it. “You touch the white button on the screen to take a nice picture.”

And Natasha found herself leaning closer and smiling when Bucky took a selfie of them. He turns the phone to her. She grinned with the result, he’s a quick learner.

“That’s a good one,” she complimented, her eyes focused in the way Bucky was smiling in the picture, then she sighs. “We gotta go and find someplace to spend the night. I need a comfy bed.” Natasha returns the phone to him, and get in the car with Bucky in tow.

The moon was already high in the sky when they hit the borders of New Mexico, leaving Texas behind. The dark road convinced Natasha it was time to a halt, and after passed by several hostels and inns, Natasha finally stopped in an inn closer to the next city. She was well aware that they still had the whole state of New Mexico and Arizona to travel, but tonight she really needed to get a good rest.

When she came in, an old, well-dressed lady, probably the owner of the place, was behind the counter. Bucky stayed close to the entrance.

“Double room?” The woman asked switching the glance between Natasha and Bucky.

“No, twin room,” Natasha answered, they could share a room but not a bed.

The woman handed Natasha the keys, and she nods in Bucky’s direction who follows her after murmuring a ‘good evening’ to the other woman. 

There are large grey curtains on the single window of the room, twin beds, one in each corner with a nightstand and lamp between the beds. There is a small dresser close to the window, and a door on the other side of the room that leads to an en suite. Natasha throws her bag on one of the beds, laying down and staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation of thick, soft sheets under her body. It’s so comfy, and her eyelids are heavy because of sleep deprivation the past nights, all Natasha wanted is to sleep, close her eyes, and fall on Morpheus’ arms.

Natasha sighs tiredly, propping herself up on her elbows to watch Bucky sitting on the other bed across the room, the backpack on his lap.

“You know, you should let me drive the next time,” he said, pulling out one of his journals from the bag.

“You don’t have a driving license,” Natasha furrowed, looking at him and registring a lopsided smile on his face.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive,” he retorted, making Natasha smirk.

She sits on the bed, taking her bag and pulling out hygienic products and a new, clean set of clothes. She attaches her hair into a bun, a few strands of red hair falls on to her face, which she quickly shoves up behind her ear. She watches when Bucky opens the journal and a pen slides from the inside directly to the floor. Natasha straights herself, remembering that Melina used to scold her for it.

“I’m sorry, what are these journals?” she asked, pointing to said object on his lap.

Bucky glances up at her, closing the journal.

“Levi gave me some of them, so I could write the memories as they came up,” he explained.

“Right,” Natasha pursed her lips as she stood up. “Sorry, a-are you gonna, huh, use the bathroom?” damn it, why she’s stuttering this much? And she keeps saying ‘sorry’ every time she feels uncomfortable, somehow, Barnes had this power to make her feel like she’s intruding.

“No. Ladies first,” he said right before focusing on his journal again.

Natasha feels the heat coming up her cheeks, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ‘Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything’ the words Nick Fury said once echoing in her mind. She was trained to deal with any kind of situation, to know exactly how to react and not to succumb to any pressure, let alone her emotions. However, there she was, blushing for a comment that James Buchanan Barnes, her soulmate, had done.

She tries to stop thinking about it as she gets rid of her clothes and entering the shower, the cold water falling on her skin is relieving after the sun they had faced today. Natasha closes her eyes as her hands work on her body, spreading the foam, keeping her skin soft. She washes her back, the tension on her shoulders don’t pass unnoticed. Natasha has to admit that even if the day was tough and had its complications, at least no one tried to kill them, so she could say it was a great day.

She opens her eyes, closing the shower, and involving the towel around herself, drying her body and dressing the clothes she brought with her. Next, Natasha brushes her teeth, then her hair.

Natasha exited the bathroom, walking right to her bed as Bucky passes beside her to enter it. She puts her phone to charge, listening to the buzz it makes when it comes to life. She places it on the floor next to her, throwing herself on the bed not caring to wait for James, Natasha turns on the bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

Nevertheless, Natasha doesn't sleep much. When she blinks again, the room is dark. James must have turned off the lights, she thinks. Somehow, the thought of him is what worries her. A cold shiver ran up through her spine, a distressed feeling rumbling through the bond says that something is wrong. Natasha sits up, turning her head to the other side of the bed, where Bucky is gasping.

He's mumbling in Russian, Natasha realizes when she approaches him. 

"Go away. Stop, make it stop," he begged his hands into fists.

Natasha sits carefully on the edge of his bed, watching him. His face is twisted in pain, agony. He's scared, she knows it through the soulmate bond that allows her to acknowledge what's he's feeling at the moment. Natasha secretly thanked for it, to share, at least, a little bit of his pain. The woman holds his right hand.

“James,” she calls him, gripping his hand. “It’s just a nightmare, James. James,” her voice is soft and calm. He’s reliving whatever he had been through with Hydra in nightmares, he’d told her that before. Natasha doesn’t need the Winter Soldier to wake up instead of the gentleman she had spent the day with. “James, I’m with you. I won’t leave you,” Natasha whispers in Russian, soothing him.

Natasha notices his chest coming up and down, waving more peacefully now. Then, he blinks wide awake. His metal hand gripping tightly on the sheets whilst the other is holding tight in Natasha’s hand. Bucky sits up, letting go of the redhaired hand and running both hands into his hair. The spy fills a glass of water to him who stares longly and fondly at her before accept it. She sinks on his bed again, a hand running up and down on his back.

“James, are you with me?” Her voice is gentle, so gentle that on other occasions she probably wouldn’t recognize it. Right now, all she wanted was to soothe the soldier, being capable of sending away his demons.

Bucky sighed, leaning forward to put the now empty glass on the nightstand before leaned back on the wall beside Natasha who quickly held his hand over her knee once again.

“I’m… okay. I’ll be fine. It was… just a nightmare,” Bucky nods, avoiding looking at her, keeping his eyes close as he beat his head smoothly against the wall. “I guess. Or a memory.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now,” she said. “James, look at me,” Natasha leans forward when he turns his head to look at her. He wasn't fully recovered, he would never be, she knew it. But they were on their way for someplace better.

She feels his breath so close to her face, and it’s so inviting if she leaned a little bit forward she could catch his tremble lips, but she doesn’t do it. Instead, they keep looking at each other.

“I never thought I would find my soulmate when I was younger. My mom used to say that I would, and I wanted to believe her, but I never really thought...” Bucky confessed.

“Yeah, neither do I,” Natasha blinks with the sudden change of topic. “I wasn’t allowed to have hopes that one day I’d find true love. They didn’t raise me to believe in this bullshit.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re soulmates,” he whispered. Natasha had to agree. They both were so fucked up in life, she understands him and he seems to understand her. Two people who lost faith in people, being soulmates looked properly. “What’s your name?” he suddenly asked, and Natasha frowned.

“You know my name, James.”

Bucky smiles, putting his hair behind his ear.

“The real one, I mean,” James says, and Natasha huffs.

It’s been such a long time since she abandoned her real name, she kept it to herself, not daring to say it out loud, yet, Bucky saw right through her lie. She adopted the name ‘Natasha’ after her first mission as a spy, that day until now she never left it. She became Natasha Romanoff, that’s who she is now. Deep down, there with James Barnes, she wanted to be Natalia Alianovna. She wanted to be herself again.

“Natalia,” she gives in.

“Natalia,” he repeated. 

“We’re fucked up, aren’t we?” Natasha says, still holding Bucky’s hand.

“Seems appropriate,” He smirks.

Natasha can’t help but smile too.

“Wanna talk about that nightmare, hum?” Natasha asks, and Bucky shook his head. She respected his decision instead of pushing further.

Natasha gets up, crouching down to check her phone, and suddenly James just says, “I knew it was wrong, Natalia. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop myself,” he glances up at her, referring to the conversation they had that day earlier when Natasha said he wasn’t the one to blame for the people he killed. He surely dreamt about it, his nightmares were all about that. An unhealed scar marked forever on his mind.

“Still, it isn’t your fault, James. I understand that, and Steve does too, and we’ll make the court see it,” she sat back on his bed again, reading the messages on her phone, then a deep furrow appears between her brow. “What the hell,” she mumbles.

“What? What is it?” Bucky asks concerned, and Natasha turns her green eyes to him.

“I know what Rumlow is planning.”


	5. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you for all kudos and comments. Enjoy it!

_ Tony: _

Agent Romanoff, did you miss me?

10:34 p.m ✓ ✓

I hope you do remember the beneficient

ball the Avengers will be attending in 

two days.

10:34 p.m ✓ ✓

By the way, it’ll take place at Malibu.

I’ll send you the coordinates.

10:35 p.m ✓ ✓

[Location sent]

10:36 p.m ✓ ✓

Romanoff?

Should I confirm your presence?

09:42 a.m ✓ ✓

Listen, Triple Impostor, no one can

get in touch with u. U r okay?

02:21 p.m ✓ ✓

Natasha touched in the location sent by Tony just to see an address in Malibu, where once she met him as Natalie Rushman, according to the address it looked like one of the richest parts of the city, the place looked incredible fancy. The four first messages were sent on the day they left Washington, the very same day she stopped in that parking lot to spend the night. The last ones were sent yesterday. Yes, yesterday since it was already 02:11 a.m.

Of course, she remembered that ball. It was something related to War Veterans, and Captain America’s presence was required, suddenly, the invitation extended to all other Avengers. Tony must have mentioned it one week before the Winter Soldier appears. Steve had confirmed, but Natasha just expected that Nick Fury would send her in a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. somewhere, so she could use it as an excuse. Now, there was no S.H.I.E.L.D., even though she was still in a mission, that somehow was connect to California, and she feared that it was mostly connected to Malibu.

After all, why Rumlow would run away from the hospital to get a, apparently, medication in California to a mission for S.H.I.E.LD./Hydra? Totally nonsense. Unless the Avengers and a bunch of important people would be in a beneficient ball in Malibu, CA. Now, it makes complete sense.

“Think with me, James,” Natasha said tapping on his knee, after showing him Tony’s messages. “We suppose Rumlow has a biological weapon and he’s still in California,” Bucky nods, following her. “Which place he’d go?”

“Malibu. That’s obvious, now that we know about the ball,” he says, standing up and crossing his arms on his chest.

“Right? I mean,” Natasha throws her hands in the air, not knowing exactly how to explain. “The Avengers will be there, and these people… I saw the guests list, these people are important, they could mess with Hydra that easily. Isn’t that the point for Project Insight at first? Eliminate anyone that could stop them and their crazy ideas about freedom?” She asks, a little desperate, trying not to sound crazy because that’s how she feels now. She wants James to believe her, she wanted him to see the truth with what’s she’s saying.

“I know. It’s a fucking chain reaction. Spread an unknown, mortal disease, infect as many people as they can… That’s surreal,” Bucky shakes his head. “We have to get there. We have to stop them, we have to go, Natalia,” he urged.

Natasha got on her feet, and walked in his direction, putting both her hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

“I know, I know,” she glances at her phone, checking the hours. “We leave at 05:00, okay? Try to get some sleep until there, we both need it.”

“We still have 13 hours on the road, Nat,” Bucky stated, looking into her eyes.

Damn it, Natasha thought. She thought that maybe they would have more time to chase after Rumlow. Also, she completely forgot about that stupid ball, because, obviously, she wasn’t the kind of person who goes to parties. She doesn’t like to be the center of attention, and that’s what’s going to happen if she went. She learned to be discreet, and that’s how she would like to be, to be kept in the shadows where she could watch everything and everyone. Fuck, she doesn’t even get a dress for this kind of thing.

If HYDRA would be there, then she also needed to worry about James. He can take care of himself, of course. Deep down, really deep, at the bottom of her mind, Natasha knows she’s afraid to lose him, her soulmate, again. The truth is, Natasha wanted James as her soulmate. These last days where they spent time together just showed her that she could help James, after all. And she thought that perhaps helping to fix him, he could help her to fix herself a little. That’s what soulmates do, right? They help each other, they bring out the best in each other. Natasha caught herself wishing it, and it scared her.

“It’s okay,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than to James. “The ball begins at 09 p.m. If we leave at 05:00 a.m. We can get there at 06:00 p.m. Is not too bad, right?” She walks back to her bag, organizing it as much as she could. They still would need clothes, and she was thankful that she brought more money than she had planned at first. “It’s alright. It’s fine, we’re fine,” she mumbled in Russian.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, the callouses fingers gripping on her warm skin, and she turned to look at James. On any other occasion, she would drop whoever it was who was touching her on the ground, but James’s presence, his touch, and the way he looked at her were always recomforting. She wasn’t afraid of him, of James, not anymore, and she thought that if one day the Winter Soldier came up once again, she could deal with him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, really. Don’t worry,” he wrapped her in his arms. It felt awkward at first, people don’t usually touch her like this. But it felt right, it felt right to be held this way by James. She notices he smelled like aftershave lotion. In fact, since she woke him up after his nightmare episode, she noticed that he had shaved. It suited him.

Natasha pulls away from his weird hug reluctantly.

“You drive in the morning,” she declared, tapping on his metal arm. Bucky grinned, reaching out for her wrist when she turned her back to him and started to fuss in her bag once again.

“Yeah?” she said, feeling the burn on her wrist when he touched her soulmate mark. Natasha rubbed the spot.

“Can-can you do me favor?” Natasha nodded, indicating that he should go on. “Can you cut my hair? I mean, I don’t like this hairstyle. It constantly reminds me of the time in Hydra and I thought…”

He didn’t need to say anything else because Natasha already pulled out a pair of scissors from her bag, holding them in her hands. She is used to cutting her hair all by herself, so James’ would not be this hard.

“You really do have everything inside this bag, don’t ya?” Bucky asked, a brow raised in questioning.

“Well… almost everything,” Natasha pulled a chair, tapping on its back for him to sit down, which James does almost immediately. “Except that, I don’t have clothes for us to wear in the ball,” she confessed, Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but Natasha swiftly cut him off. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll figure it out when we reach California lands.”

“That’s reassuring,” he mumbled in response as Natasha started to comb and divide his hair.

Then, she started to cut, always asking James if it was short enough for him or if he’d like another style. Even though, everything that she suggested Bucky accepted without questioning much. She must have wronged it a few times, cutting shorter than she thought he’d like at first, but he never complained about it.

“I used to have bangs,” Natasha said, wiping away the strands on his shoulders. “Let it grow when I left the Red Room. I never could wear bangs again, even when I’m wearing wigs, I got that bad feeling. I dunno.” She finished thoughtfully.

“Guess you’d look adorable with bangs,” he said, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. Natasha slapped him on his shoulder, but she’s laughing too.

Bucky gets up and walks to the en suite, analyzing his reflection on the mirror. Touching on his hair, and his chin recently shaved.

“You look more like that guy from the Smithsonian exhibition,” Natasha can’t stop the words from slipping out. She knows how he feels when the younger Bucky Barnes from the forties is mentioned, and the last thing she wanted was to upset James. 

“I guess so. I’m not that guy anymore, though,” Barnes replied, looking at Natasha who was stopped on the doorframe, he looks at her through the mirror.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean--” she started to say, waving her hands in front of her.

“It’s okay.”

Natasha watched him as he came out and skillfully started to join the dark-haired strands on the floor in his hands, throwing out most part of it in the trash can in the bathroom.

“You’re not broken, James. And you’re far from being the only damaged here.” Natasha whispered, knowing very well that his enhanced hearing would listen clearly. Which proves to be true when he stares up at her. “They....” Natasha swallows past the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. What she’s about to share is personal, and she doesn’t remember to have voiced that out loud in the past. “They took something from me,” Natasha takes a deep breath. “In the Red Room, where I was trained, where I was raised.” She blinked, pushing away any tears that could possibly come down. “They have a graduation ceremony. They sterilize you.” She looks away from James’ spot. “It’s efficient.  One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission.  Makes everything easier. Even killing.” Natasha fixes her eyes on his figure.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing up.

“You still think you’re the only monster here?” Natasha turned her back, putting the scissors back on her bag.

“I’m really sorry, Natalia,” Barnes whispered, closing the zip of his backpack. His tone is regretful, although he didn’t say anything that caused this reaction on Natasha. She just… wanted to share, to open up with somebody.

“Don’t be. I don’t even know why I’m telling you that, I-I-I just… I know how you feel, James. I’ve been there once,” she said, shoving a blouse in the bag. “You’re right, we’re leaving now. I don’t think I can get any sleep after this night,” she puts the bag on her shoulder. “You better hurry up.”

With that, Natasha walks out of the room, down the corridor. She blinks the tears out of her eyes. That’s not the moment to get all emotional, not when she’s on a mission and so many lives were at stake. That was the purpose of the graduation ceremony, right? Nothing could be more important than the mission, but the fact is that she’s not that girl anymore. The Avengers were like her family, being with them it was like she could be a real person. Damn, even Tony Stark as annoyed as he is meant something for her.

“Stupid,” she mumbled, rubbing her wrist.

By the time she got in the reception, the tears were wiped away, and she looks like nothing happened like she didn’t share a huge, personal memory with her soulmate. Right now, while she talks with the attendant, she is not Natalia Alianovna, she’s Natasha Romanoff. And Natasha didn’t let emotions get on her way.

She gives back the keys and pays for the accommodation. The decision to wait for James outside, next to the car, quickly shows not to be a good one. She is welcomed with the cold, wet breeze of the night. It’s 04:01 a.m. and the sun will not come up so soon. She doesn’t like to drive at night, mainly if she feels tired like she has been feeling lately, but Bucky would be driving and his eyes were enhanced and certainly better than hers to drive at night. Maybe, just maybe, she trusted in him, even though she denied it to herself.

Watching James coming in her direction is a whole new, undefined thing now. He’s not the man from the Smithsonian, but he’s not the man Hydra molded him to be either. He’s something else. He’s pulling all his shit back together, and Natasha felt like she’s losing herself. She’s confused, and she hated to feel this way. That sudden bond made her rethink her life choices, which she’s been delayed for far too long, whatever. It was her turn, she was broken, tore into fragments, so she could be Natalia again, and all this mess was worth it. On the other hand, Barnes had been broken, lost, he was into pieces when they met two days ago. Now, he seems to be recovering, gathering his fragments, and discovering his new self.

First, you have to break. Then, someone, in this case, the soulmate, would gather your pieces, keep them safe, and help you to rebuild yourself again. She had done her part with Barnes, and fate was just trying to retribute the favor. She was the broken one, and she had to trust him, blindly, to get through her mess. The bond was pulling them to each other, to collect their fragments.

“Are you okay?” Natasha blinks, staring up at Bucky who is standing in front of her. “Natalia, I’m really sorry. I--” Bucky looked down at his feet, before raising his blue eyes to face her green ones. “Listen. No one has to be strong all the time, it’s okay to need a shoulder to lean in.”

“Thanks, James. But I can get by on my own.” Natasha puts the car keys in his hands, sitting on the passenger seat as Bucky turned around to open the driver door and shove the keys in the ignition. He does not turn them, though. Instead, he watches her until their eyes eventually met.

“The thing is, you don’t have to,” Bucky finished, initiating the car and they got back on the road.

They didn’t talk much afterward, there was nothing else to be said. Eventually, Natasha rested her head on the window, curling up on her seat as the cold wind hit her face, and she fell asleep.

When Natasha opens her eyes again, the sun is already up. She blinked disoriented for a while as she scanned the view outside of the window. Pieces of information quickly coming to her mind. She’s on a mission, going to Malibu, with Bucky Barnes. Her mind offers her. Right, she thinks, rubbing her face. Grimacing as she starts to feel the numbness, of being exposed to cold wind for long, fading.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. There was a hell of speed bump back there,” Bucky offers, eyes still on the road ahead of him. “The road sucks here.” Natasha can’t help the smirk that appears on her lips when she hears James swearing.

“Where are we?” the redhaired asked, her raspy voice makes her reach for the bottle of mineral water in the backseat.

“Still in New Mexico,” he specified. Natasha turns the radio on, a bit surprised when the speaker says it’s 07:22 a.m. She’s been sleeping for the last three hours, at least. “Thought maybe we could stop and get some breakfast,”

“That sounds great,” Natasha mumbled, she really needed to pee and stretch her legs and back. It doesn’t matter if she said she wouldn’t sleep on the seat anymore, she always ended up sleeping the same way.

They stopped a few meters ahead when they spot a snack bar on the right side of the road. They don’t stop to eat, though, they simply don’t have the time anymore to sit, relax, and talk. No, they have to eat inside the car, and that’s what they do when Bucky is waiting for her in the car. He drives, even though she insisted that he needed a break, he is pretty insistent that she drove too may hours before he assumed the wheel. Of course, it is very clear who is giving the orders here.

Stubborn bastard, Natasha thought, chewing her peanut sandwich that Bucky had ordered, and she was glad that he was starting to move forward and doing things for himself, Natasha really didn’t have any idea how he knew that peanut sandwich was her favorite, maybe it was just a weird coincidence. Or maybe not.

She kicked her shoes out and rested her feet on the dashboard to get comfortable, though it was a terrible position for someone who was about to have a backache after sleep on the car seat. She would deal with the pain later, certainly would regret it later too. She looked for her phone buzzing in the glove compartment and stretched to reach it and read the new messages on the notifications bar.

_ Tony: _

U are 1 day later, Romanoff.

What took you so long to reply?  😉

08:11 p.m ✓ ✓

For fuck’s sake, tell me you’re fine. 

I got a little over the heels here.

08:11 p.m ✓ ✓

I’m alive, Stark.

It’s all u need to know. 

🙄

08:12 p.m ✓ ✓

Great. You’re coming, right?

08:12 p.m ✓ ✓

Unfortunately, yes.

08:12 p.m ✓ ✓

**😪**

08:13 p.m ✓ ✓

Natasha looked to the screen again, pursuing her lips nervously, and watching the signal  _ Tony is typing…  _ wondering if she should tell him about her assumptions and Hydra/Rumlow’s plan. She decides that it’s not up to her to tell him. James came to her, he trusted her, he confided the whole thing on her hands when he had no reason to trust her, they didn’t even know that they were soulmates. So, no, she won’t say anything until it proves extremely necessary. Was she putting her soulmate that she only gets to know a few days ago, above a four-years-longest-friend-date, she’s ever had? Yes, she was.

_ Tony _ :

Keep me updated.

08:14 p.m ✓ ✓

Natasha locked the screen, shifting uncomfortably on her sit. It was the right thing to do, she convinces herself. So many lives were at stake, even Tony’s and all her Avengers friends, she couldn’t step back now. She would wear a stupid dress at a fancy party and she would capture Rumlow.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked, occasioning Natasha to turn her gaze to him.

“Yeah, I mean. Tony wanted to make sure I’m really going to this stupid ball.” She waves her hands in the air, as she thought that was a stupid thing.

“Did you tell him? About the whole thing, you found out?”

“No. It’s our mission. We get to decide it together about who we tell about it,” Natasha puts her hand above his on the geat shift, giving a smooth squeeze on it. Bucky gave her a fond smile.

Not much happened after breakfast, just random talks about the weather, politics, history. She enjoyed her time answering Bucky’s questions about the 21st century. He always had questions about how the technology and the health system care had developed in the last decades. None of them talked about their issues. Red Room, HYDRA, brainwashing whatever. No. They just enjoyed some time together like an ordinary couple usually does.

Well, not exactly a couple, Natasha thought when they stopped by to get lunch. Actually, Bucky went to the restaurant by himself. Natasha switched from the passenger seat to the driver’s, decided to give James a few hours of resting before they reach California. The man had been driving all morning and the beginning of the afternoon. Also, he didn’t get that much sleep last night, less than Natasha’s, in fact.

She saw a signal saying that they were at the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, in Arizona. According to GPS, they still had five hours on the road. Natasha sighed, frustrated. She should have hurried up, she should have slept less. She doesn’t know, but she felt like she should have done something, otherwise, they wouldn’t be this later.

“Hey,” Bucky said, his arms full with packages. Natasha leaned forward to open the door for him, getting one of them that’s supposed to be her lunch.

She didn’t wait much when Bucky got in the car, placing his lunch on the dashboard, she stepped on the accelerator right away. Every minute counted.

“What the hell?” Bucky shouted.

“We are five hours away from our destination. As soon as we get there, it’ll be better for us,” Natasha explained.

“Got it, just…” Bucky sighed as she gives him a quick glance.

Bucky is looking down at his pants, and Natasha notices for the first the cup on his hand, which the lid flew and stopped somewhere on the car floor when she accelerated. His black pants were soaked with the soda.

“I just look I pissed myself now,” he said, trying to sound annoyed, but being betrayed by the tug in the corner of his lips.

“Oh my God!” Natasha exclaims, taking one of her hands to cover the laugh that escaped from her mouth. “Oh, God. I’m sorry,” she said, still not stopping laughing.

“Keep laughing, Natalia,” he muttered, but he was smiling too.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Natasha waved a hand. “We’ll get new clothes as soon we arrive in Malibu.” Bucky hummed in agreement, fumbling the packages.

Natasha shoved her hand inside a package and sort out a few napkins. She attempted to throw them distractedly on Bucky’s lap, instead of it, her hand went further, touching him right there, on the bulge of his pants.

What the fuck, Natasha, she scolded herself. A blush appearing on her cheeks. Her ears burning in embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hair out of behind her ear to cover her face. Humiliation taking over, though, well, he was gifted. Natasha felt like she should slap herself for having these thoughts. The truth is, the bond was attracting them together. So, lately, Natasha started to caught her thinking how attrahent Barnes is, or how his eyes reflected the light of the sun, or how he smelled wonderfully or how he was such a type. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she apologized.

“Hum, uh, thanks,” James replied, holding the napkins up

She was thankful that he didn’t comment on anything else or even joked about it. He’s a man from the forties, so far he had been a perfect gentleman. It was obvious that he wouldn’t disrespect her.

They ate in silence, and for a whole half an hour they haven’t said anything. There’s nothing to be said, or perhaps there was, though both of them keep their mouth shut. Then, obviously, Natasha’s phone started to ring. Clint’s name appearing on the screen. Oh, shit. He must’ve been worried about the days that Natasha was offline or unavailable for a call. Clint always knew when she got a mission, but she left Washington without explanations, so he must have presumed the worst.

“I’m driving, Clint, you’re on speaker.”

“Thank God, you’re alive. I thought you had died and they had thrown you in a ditch in the middle of nowhere,” Clint said.

“Very funny,” Natasha replied without smiling.

“So, where have you been? No one knew where you were, kind of worried here,” Clint sighed. “You used to tell me when you were going on a mission, Natasha.”

“I’m on my way to California, Clint.”

“What? I thought I could get a ride with you!” Clint exclaimed, huffing out loud in indignation.

“You’re three days later, Hawk,” Natasha furrowed. “Stop being a cheapstake and get a plane,” Natasha shouted at the end to emphasize her words.

“Right, right,” Clint said, and Natasha rolled her eyes. She could see a phantom of a smile on James’ face while he pretended to not paying attention to any of it, looking out of the window. “Lila misses you,” Clint chanted. “Say ‘hi’ to auntie Nat.” A shy, childish voice came out of the phone, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile.

She mumbled a ‘Hi, sweetie’ in response to the girl, promising that she would teach her how to fight like Black Widow, but only if the girl was eating vegetables as Laura always asked her. After all, she needed to be strong to fight. So, after Lila promised that she would eat more fruits and vegetables, Clint took over the phone again;

“Get your ass to Malibu, Clint,” Natasha shouted as soon as Clint started to speak again. Clint complained about the fact of having to wear a suit but said he would be there.

He better be, Natasha thought, leaning in to turn off the call. If things get out of their controls, the best option was to have everyone from the team there. Well, maybe not the Hulk in a closed space, but certainly Bruce Banner would be for good use.

Natasha felt Barnes’ eyes on her. She doesn’t have to give him an explanation, but she believes she owes him one.

“It’s… his family,” she started. “Wife, kids. I’d appreciate it if you’d never mention it to anyone,” her tone is steady, but it was clear that she had an attachment to Barton’s family.

“I won’t,” James answered, then he leaned closer to her. “Pinky promise,” his metal pinky lifted in her direction. She smiled, holding her pinky around his.

“Pinky promise,” Natasha said, a smile still tugging her lips up.

* * *

By the time, they reach the California borders is already night. Which is bad, she knows it. But what it’s really worse than this is to get in California at the rush hour. They have been stranded there for 21 minutes by now. Traffic was terrible, and they were not moving. Also, they didn’t have any suitable clothes for that kind of event. Damn, Natasha could feel a pinch on her temple, a headache due to stress starting to kick in just to piss her off.

“We’ll never make it,” Natasha throws her hands on the wheel, sighing longly.

“We will,” Bucky said, which makes Natasha glances at him.

“Since when you are the optimistic one here?” Natasha stirred her hands in the air exasperated with the entire situation.

“Look, we can stop on the shoulder, and get the car later,” Bucky suggested. “Maybe, we can get an… Uber? To go to the address you have.”

“Hey! Look who is all talking about technologies, and apps recommendation,” Natasha said, surprised.

“Hey, I’ve been reading,” Bucky shrugged. “Alright. You wanna buy clothes,” Bucky leaned towards her to show the screen of his phone opened on Google Maps with the nearest clothing establishment listed. “There’s plenty of clothing store, and there’s even a Mall around here,” he offered.

Natasha can’t help but lean closer to the screen, observing the shops name attentively. She didn’t want to go to the Mall at rush hour, long waiting, queues, slow people walking in front of her. Nah, no, thank you. She absolutely doesn’t need it. She looked over the options, then point to one, opening the page of the establishment.

“Let’s go to this one,” she turned the screen, so Bucky could see. “It’s not far from here, six minutes of walking, and there’s a hotel nearby. That’s perfect.” Natasha grinned, turning the next street when they reach it, and stopping the car.

They take all their belongings from the car. That car that has been their ‘home’ for three days and now would be left behind in those dark streets. Natasha pulls out her wallet, shoving a few dollars into Bucky’s hand.

“Get us a proper hotel room. I’ll get the clothes,” she said, if they split out then maybe they would make it in time. Bucky was looking at her with a raised brow.

“I thought you didn’t trust me,” he said, only to receive Natasha’s sharp gaze.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she put the wallet in the pocket, and shove her bag to Bucky. “Go. I’ll get there in fifteen minutes.”

“There’s no way you can be this fast,” Bucky retorted, and Natasha threw another sharp look at him. “Fine. I’m on my way,” he lifted his hands in the air, turning his back to go in the hotel’s direction.

Natasha took her lead too, following in direction the clothing store is supposed to be. Oh, God. She hated shopping, and there she was, responsible to get a dress for her and a nice suit for James. She hates the place by just looking at the facade. So many fancy dresses with all the colors exposed on the shop window, they’re beautiful, but not exactly appropriate to fight when she needed.

Before so many options, she decided to starts with Barnes’ outfit, knowing him very well now, she knows he would like some discreet, but also fancy, because Natasha couldn’t deny that she was excited to see him wearing a suit. She doesn’t forget to add a pair of gloves, she had noticed that Bucky didn’t like all the attention that he got when his metal arm was showing. Oh! Also, shoes, how could she forget them?

She got him a pair of nice black shoes, immediately holding the nude scarpins on the shelf next to it. She throws the pieces that she separated for Bucky, and the shoes over the counter, thanking mentally for the fact that the store wasn’t full, giving a lot of space to pace around the room. Natasha sighed when she saw that twelve minutes had passed since she left James. Oh, God! She just hoped that he was okay and that he got them a room. She really could use a shower.

She turned to the dresses in front of her, refusing when a saleswoman offered her help. She could do it by herself. She’s a quickie in discarding the ones she would never wear, for being too colorful, or full of unnecessary details. Then, her eyes catch a glimpse of a dress hidden between a gold and a red one. She hanged it in front of her eyes analyzing the clothing, the silver color with some sparks, it had an opening in the leg, which could be useful in a fight. She turned the dress back, observing the large opening on the back, letting her back fully naked. That was the one.

Without any hesitation, she joins the dress with the other pieces chosen. Her eyes fell on the clock on the wall, seventeen minutes now, she hurries up. Paying an expansive price for her purchases, and almost running down the street to the hotel.

She asked for a reservation in the name of James Barnes or Natasha Romanoff, thanking the attendant when he gave her a card, saying that her bedroom was the 202. She blushed when the man said that her ‘husband’ got earlier, but she ignored this small detail. Her only focus was to get in that ball in time. Her phone chimes when she got in the elevator. It was a picture of Clint’s half-face with Thor grimacing in the background. Well, even Thor was already there. Her phone chimes with a message.

_ Clint: _

Where r u?

07:16 p.m ✓ ✓

_ Natasha: _

On my way…

07:17 p.m ✓ ✓

She ignored it when it chimes again, passing the card and opening the door. She jumped at the sight of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes with a towel around his waist, his hair dripping water on his back. Natasha felt her heart pounding inside her chest, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the contraction of the muscles on his back right before he turned away to look at her.

“Hey, I-I thought in taking a shower before you got here, huh,” he bit his bottom lip. “To hurry things up.” Natasha nodded frantically.

“Great,” she threw the bag with the suit to him, getting her bag on the bed, and going straight to the bathroom.

Natasha planned to leave at 08:15 p.m. Which gives her almost an hour, enough time to get dressed. Plus, the place wasn’t so far, they would be there in 20 minutes if the traffic had gotten any better. She hoped so.

So, after a well-deserved shower, she put on the silver dress, noticing that it showed more of her back than she thought it would. It wasn’t a problem, though, and it matches just right with her heels color. Then, she works in a basic make-up, she doesn’t want to call attention to her when she clearly is on a mission, she finished it with a slight pink lipstick. 

She looks at the last item she needed to wear. Not that she really needed it, everyone knew that the Avengers will attend the event, which means that Black Widow would be there, after all. But... maybe, it could buy her some time, help her to mix with the crowd. Whatever. She puts on the blonde wig anyway, fixing any weird strands of hair, setting it perfectly. Fine. That's perfect.

She steps out of the bathroom, facing a Bucky Barnes perfectly dressed in a totally black suit and his hair combed so perfectly that there wasn’t even a strand out of place. He’s flexing his metal hand now covered with the new glove she got him.

“Wow,” he said. “What’s with the wig?”

Natasha shrugged, sitting on the bed to put on her heels.

“Thought it could help to pass unnoticeable,”

“Well, if that’s your plan... I’m afraid you won’t succeed dressed like that,” he said, sitting by her side. Natasha rolled her eyes, but she can't help the smirk on the corner of her mouth.

"Neither will you, I daresay," Natasha replied, with a raised brow but Barnes doesn't say anything else beyond the smile on his face.

He offers his arm to her, which Natasha accepts elegantly. God, damn it, how could be a man such a gentleman? Then, she thought that perhaps she didn't deserve Barnes as her soulmate. She hated doubt of herself.

* * *

The entry was crowded with photographs and some journalists. It is James who leads the way, and she mutters a ‘Natasha Romanoff’ when the woman asks her name at the gates. She looks around in the big hall seeing people dressed pompously. The place was full but not crowded, not yet, at least. There was a parlor in the back of it, and a bar with all kinds of alcohol beverages in the right. Her eyes trailed up to the first floor, the balcony there seemed empty, but it has a full view of the main hall, Natasha makes a mental note to keep her eyes up.

“The air ducts,” Bucky mentioned, pointing at it with his chin. Natasha’s eyes moved to where he was pointing seeing one and counting eight ducts around the place.

“Yeah, anything suspects?” She asked, her eyes darting around the hall once again.

Bucky looked around.

“No, but there’s a man coming in our direction,” he said, Natasha turned to follow his look and seeing Clint walking in their direction.

“It’s a friend,” she smiled.

“Hey,” Clint greeted, placing a kiss on her cheek. “What’s with the wig?”

“Trying to not call attention to myself, clearly I’m failing,” she smirked at Bucky who still had his arm wrapped on hers.

“Yeah,” Clint sighed, then his gaze fell on Bucky and his eyes widened. “Wait! Oh, fuck. You--you are--HYDRA--” Natasha put a hand on Clint’s shoulder to quiet him, and prevent him to draw attention to them.

“It’s fine,” she gave a little squeeze on his shoulder. “And, he’s not Hydra anymore.” She frowned at the name of the nazist organization that kept Bucky captive and brainwashed all these years.

Bucky reaches out to a handshake.

“Huh, Bucky Barnes,” he said. Clint looked at his hand for a while, and Natasha almost wanted to scold him, eventually, he accepted it, shaking James’ hand.

“Clint Barton. Good that you’re okay, I’ve heard--” Natasha shook her head to keep him from going on. “Well, good that you’re, hum, getting along,” Clint glanced at their arms wrapped together.

“Is everyone here?” Natasha asked, looking around again and spotting Thor with Dr. Selvig and a couple of old men next to the bar.

“Yes. I’ve seen Banner talking with a woman, Dr. Cho, I guess that’s her name. I saw the Captain in the entrance, and Miss Potts was yelling with Tony, but that’s been a while now.” Clint shoved his hands inside the pockets. 

Clint turned around when someone shouts his name and excuses himself going in the direction of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Sharon Carter.

“Let’s split out,” Natasha said, and Barnes looked at her, unsure of her decision.

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. But it’s the only one I have, so it will be it,” Natasha shrugged, moving in the direction of the bar, but keeping a safe distance from Thor. She knew how excited he could be to seeing a ‘friend’.

She finds a spot to sit at the bar, quickly ordering a shot of gin, sipping it nonchalantly. She looks at where Thor is standing with a larger glass of beer. The guy sat behind him is dressed in ordinary clothes, which at first looks okay he’s a member of staff. Natasha watches him for a little longer until his phone rings. She can’t understand what he’s saying from that distance. Whoever is calling him is brief and turn off fast, it’s when he stands up and puts his phone in the pocket that she saw a glimpse of a gun hidden behind his shirt. 

There’s no reason for a staff member to be carrying a gun around a beneficient party, unless if he was a member of security, but all the security guards are wearing Armani black suits. She watches while the man walks toward the main entrance, but she also sees the slight movement of his chin when he passes next to another man in the corner of the bar. She stays there for a couple of minutes, sipping her gin until it’s over and the other man in the corner leaves towards the entrance as well.

Coincidence? She doesn’t think so.

Natasha leaves her spot, wondering where Barnes is and a bit of worry weighs on her shoulders at the thought of him. Her green eyes dart around the place with urgency. Please, don’t take him. Don’t take him. Don’t take him away from me again.

Natasha jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder just to find Barnes right beside her. Oh, she wanted to hold him close and make him never leave her side again, she wanted to kiss him… Natasha shakes her thought away.

“Any sign of Rumlow?” she asked instead of doing any of those things she’d rather to.

Bucky pursued his lips, looking at the salon where people were dancing.

“No,” he mumbled, then took her hand. “Come here,” he pulls her in direction of those people dancing, and Natasha started to panic.

“Wait, what--” slow music starts to play, and Bucky held her close to him.

Okay. He’s a good dancer, she admits it, feeling her face heating up. Also, it’s so damn good being held by him, his touch is gentle and, somehow, familiar. Natasha thought that she never have felt this way in the arms of another man, and she also believed that it was connected to the fact that they are soulmates. She could never feel his emotions so well as she feels it now, and she bets that he was feeling the same way.

“It’s less suspicious talking when we’re dancing,” he justifies his decision, and as much as she wanted she can’t disagree with him. “There are two guys up there. One has a phone in his hands.”

They move at the pace of the dancing, and when they turn, Natasha sees those guys he was talking about. Alright, Barnes and her definitely make a good team.

“Hum, I see. There were two at the bar, they headed to the entrance,” she informed him.

“We need to go upstairs,” he said, and Natasha nodded in agreement. “We also need reinforcement. We can't protect all these people down here.”

Once more, Natasha wants to disagree, but she can’t because he’s right. The others needed to know what was happening, they couldn’t put civilians at stake.

“Right,” she muttered. “Are you seeing Clint?” Natasha asked. Barnes was taller than her, so right now he had a better view of the hall.

“No,” he breathed. “But I’m seeing Steve.” Natasha noticed him tensing up at the mention of best friend from a long date.

The music is almost over when Natasha pulled him, holding tight into his hand and moving to the direction of the blond hair of Steve. She dodged from people walking around the salon, and then she stopped all of sudden, making James bumps onto her back.

She tried to assimilate what she was seeing. Was she seeing it correctly? Maybe, she had drunk too much, because there was no way that Steve was kissing Tony Stark. They... didn't get along so well when they met, so what has changed? Oh. Right, Steve told her he had found his soulmate, and days after Sam told her that Steve was having problems with the said soulmate. Oh. Oh, okay, it all fits perfectly now.

She pulled James to her side, and Steve jumped when he noticed her sudden approximation, breaking his kiss with Tony.

"Nat, what--" his eyes turned to James. "Bucky," Steve said.

"Oh, I feel completely honored by your presence here, Miss Romanoff," Tony gave her a bitter smile, and Natasha gave one back as well.

"Okay," Natasha said, walking in front of James, and putting a hand on Steve’s chest to stop him from approaching. "We have a big problem here, and we need help," she declared.

"What is it? Please don't tell me someone is wearing the same ridiculous wig as you," Tony joked.

"Tony, stop joking," Steve said, making Tony rolls his eyes.

"Rumlow is here with some Hydra guys. I saw two of them at the entrance, James saw two up there." Natasha points to the floor above them. "We're gonna deal with those up there, and I need you to keep eyes down here. We believe Rumlow has a biological weapon and is planning to spread it out from the air ducts. We need to hurry," Natasha spit out at once.

"Okay, so--" Steve started, but Natasha just shook her head, they needed to hurry, there was no time for a Captain America's speech right now. Instead, she pulls Bucky with her again, this time going up the stairs.

"I don't like the idea of split out," James said, a gun appearing in his hands when they hit the first floor.

She doesn't question him how he got a gun, but she could bet that he took one from her bag at the hotel. It wasn't a problem now, though. Bucky was an excellent sniper during WWII, and he certainly was still in shape. The scar on her belly was proof of it. They could do good use of their abilities together.

Natasha takes a gun of her own, keeping it in her hands in case she needed it, and she certainly will. They walk through a corridor, everything seems quiet and frighteningly empty until they hit the end of the corridor. One of the guys they had seen earlier on the balcony was pointing a gun to them, but before he could do any move, a shot hit him on the chest.

The redhaired turned to look at Bucky, his finger resting on the trigger. His features twisted in determination, he shifted uncomfortably, staring at what he just had done. Natasha walks to him, resting a hand on his chest. She couldn't lose him now.

"James, you're alright?" she asked. Bucky stared at her and nodded.

But before any of them could say anything else, the noise of a gun firing came to their ears.

Natasha didn't have the time to move, her back turned to the shooters. She heard the cling of something against metal before Bucky pulled her down, searching for something to shield them. Natasha gasped, feeling completely useless, and Bucky quickly took down the other shooters. That's HYDRA weapon fully awake being used against their own creators. 

"Natalia, you're okay?" Bucky asked, cupping her cheek. She saw where the bullet had hit instead of her head, it was sticking in Bucky's metal arm.

"'M fine," she mumbled. "Let's go." 

Natasha motioned forward with Bucky following behind her. It was hard to think on the mission when the only thought inside her head was that James just had saved her life. Her soulmate shielded her from being shot on the head because she was too careless. Because her emotions towards Barnes had made her put him at first instead of the mission. Though, she didn't regret her decision.

“Natalia, careful,” Barnes whispered, she totally ignored his warning.

She could listen to voices in the next corridor, and so could Bucky. They stopped in the corner. Natasha heard a voice that she knew very well because this same agent used to work with her, he even used to give orders to her. 'Rumlow', she mouthed to Barnes, and he nodded in understanding.

"You have to put it in the main duct, then it will spread to the orders," Rumlow explained. "We get out right after we receive your positive signal."

Natasha stepped in, cutting the bullshit, and she heard James mutters a curse in what she thinks it’s Romanian.

"I don't think so," she shot, but he was quicker and dodged it. Her next shot hit the guy behind Rumlow, and James takes one who tried to approach them down easily.

Rumlow pulled the thinner guy passing the deadly content to him. Then, he threw an apparent grenade in their direction, except it released a thick white smoke nearly impossible to see.

"See you in hell, Romanoff," Rumlow shouted.

The smoke only got thicker, and unable to see anything, even her hands in front of her face. Natasha felt arms holding her and pulling her away from the smoke. James, of course. She forgot he was a super soldier and that smoke certainly didn't affect his sight as much as hers.

He pulled her to the corridor where they came from. Natasha rubbed her watery eyes, pulling the wig out and throwing it on the floor.

"Damn it, we lost him," she cursed, punching the air.

Bucky is watching her with her gun in his hands, and when she feels she can see again, he gives it back.

"Not exactly. Rumlow went to the left, the other guy with the weapon went to the right," Barnes explained.

"Okay. I-I go right, you go left," Natasha stated, and she gives a few steps back in the direction she's supposed to go before stopping. "James," she called.

Bucky turned to look at her. Oh, God, she felt her heart racing in her chest. She ran in his direction and smashed their lips together in an urgent kiss, it was a life-death kind of kiss. Like it could be the last one of their lives. And, God, she hoped it wasn't because James' tongue invading her mouth was just spectacular.

Natasha pulled away, tapping on his chest as she tried to recover her breath. Their eyes met, blue and green like the lake in her home country. There was nothing to be said now, but there would be so much to talk after.

They did exactly what they didn't want. They split apart.

Natasha ran to the right, glancing at each corridor for any signs of threat. Her heart pounding in her chest at each step she gave, distancing herself from James. He would be fine, she recalls herself. He could take of himself, he'll be fine.

She turned the last corridor, seeing a lid of air duct laying on the floor.

"Shit," she cursed, running to the entrance of it. Natasha took out her heels, and get in the thin space.

Natasha crawled into the duct, gun in her hands, ready to shoot at any moment. She did her best to crawl faster, she needed to catch up the guy, otherwise, everyone would be very dead and contaminate in a few seconds. She took the hardest part, but it was her only option, though. No one from the team, but herself, would fit in this narrow space.

At the bottom of the duct, she saw what it seemed like a leg and grunts. She crawls faster, drawing the attention of the young man in front of her, he moves faster and let out a painful grunt. He was hurt, she detects it.

"Stop it! It's not worth it," Natasha shouted. The man doesn't look older than 20 years old. Well, it seems that Hydra has fanatics of all kinds, which is even scarier.

Natasha holds his ankle tight. Shielding her face with her other arm when the man kicks back.

"Son of a bitch," Natasha shouts, crawling on top of him.

The man grunts when Natasha, somehow, hit the injury in his thigh. Natasha stretched her hand to reach his and pulls the bottle with the deadly content. The Hydra agent lifts his knee hitting her on the belly, and making Natasha pants when the air is pushed out of her lungs, and her back hits the cold metal while her lungs are burning from sudden lack of oxygen.

Her gun fell between them, and the man gropes search for it. She won't hold on her luck this time, she hit her knee in the middle of his balls. The man screamed in pain, twisting his body in the thin space, but he didn't let it go so easily. No, of course not. He pulled her hair, making Natasha screams too while their hands search for the gun. 

While they both panting, Natasha felt a cold metal in her fingertips, she grabbed the gun. The guy makes a move on top of her, and the noise of the shot echoed in the air ducts. Natasha's eyes widened, and the man fell still by her side, his eyes widened in surprise as he coughed and choked on his own blood, spilling it on her face. Gross!

She had done it so many times. She had killed so many people before when she was in the Red Room, for KGB, she was trained for it, after all. At least, now this one really was a bad guy, she killed one to spare hundreds of people down there, innocent people, unaware of everything that was happening in this air duct so close to them.

Natasha closed her hand around the bottle of biological weapon as she breathed in relief. The smell of hot blood filling her nostrils made her feel nauseated, swiftly she took the decision of crawling back to society.

Walking back to the party is angsty, because, first, she's covered in blood and people are staring at her. Second, where the hell is James and why he's not next to Steve in the entrance?

"God, Natasha--" Steve said, putting a hand on her shoulders. Natasha shoves the bottle in Steve's hand.

"Don't let it  _ fuck _ break," Natasha leaned against the wall. Steve nodded frantically before he said anything Tony appeared.

"Fuck, Romanoff, you saved the night," Tony smiled. "I'm gonna grab a towel for you," he said already walking away.

Natasha smirked, switching her gaze to Steve.

"So, you and Tony, huh?"

Steve looked down, embarrassed, his ears flushing in a scarlet shade of pink.

“Yeah.”

“It’s cool,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Where’s James?” Steve furrowed.

"I thought he was with you," the blond stated, making Natasha’s heart pounds in fear instead of only the adrenaline spike.

Natasha ran to the outside, looking to both sides trying to spot James somewhere. He went after Rumlow, he couldn't have got so far, and the thought that maybe Hydra had taken him again was just too painful to handle. She saw Clint coming from a direction, and she ran to him.

"Have you--?"

"I followed them till that warehouse," Clint pointed to a build. "Couldn't catch them," Natasha moved in the direction he was pointing, but Clint held her by the waist. "Nat, I don't think--"

Clint never finished his sentence, because the loud noise drew everyone's attention to the warehouse. Fire going up to the sky as the flames involved the build. What had unleashed an explosion? Have Hydra planned all of this? She didn't have answers to these questions, and she hated not having answers.

What she hated, even more, it was not feeling James. She felt desperation starts to kick in when she noticed that the bond was quiet. Silent. Like it has been for all those years before she bumped into James in the middle of an alley four days ago.

Clint's grip tightened around her waist, stopping her to move forward, to go in the direction of the flames. The mere thought that James could no longer exist was too distressing. It wasn't fair that she met her soulmate just to lose him again, but life was never fair with her.

"Nat," Clint called her, obeying her to turn her watery eyes to him, she didn't want to cry. She wouldn't cry. Clint hugged her, caressing her hair, and she can't help the sob that escapes from her lips, thanking for being Clint that was seeing her in that state.

She raises her head when she sees Steve giving a few steps forwards.

"Bucky?" he said, then he ran in the direction of a shadow appearing from the flames far away.

"Oh my God," Natasha murmured.

She heard the sirens of the ambulances around. Clint pulled her away from the crowd that was starting to form in front of the place. He took the wet towel from Stark's hands, and passed it to Natasha cleans her face, still filled with drops of blood from the man she killed.

"Nat, hey. How are you?" Clint asked. Natasha wiped the blood from her face, rubbing her cheeks to wipe the now cold drops.

"I-I'm fine, I guess. I dunno. He's..." Natasha waved her hands to where Steve was standing with Bucky close to one of the ambulance.

"He seems fine," Clint shrugged. "I saw your wrist. Couldn't see his, but I know you're soulmates," he smiled. "Glad you could find yours."

Natasha shrugged, not sure of what she should say. She wanted to check on James.

"Do you love him?" Clint whispered, making Natasha raises her eyes.

Does she love him? She asks herself because all this time when she was worried about Barnes she thought it was because of the bond. But what she wasn't truly certain what she felt for him. He was important to her, she knew it without doubts. Natasha sighed, a little frustrated.

"No. Not yet. But I care about him," Natasha replied sincerely 

Steve went talking with Tony, leaving Bucky standing next to the ambulance. So, Natasha threw the towel to Clint and went to check on her soulmate. Bucky had his hands shoved inside the pockets, he was trying to pass unnoticed after everything that happened, though some people were clearly pointing at him. Natasha passed and held his elbow, pulling him to somewhere away from curious gazes.

"Hey," Bucky said. "You're okay?"

"Why is everyone asking me that?" Natasha complained, and Bucky shrugged. "What happened there? I thought you had asked for help!"

"Well," Bucky smirked. "He blew himself up, and dragged down part of the building with him."

Natasha slaps him on the shoulder.

"That's not funny," she said. 

Natasha looked deep into his blue eyes, the smirk still in his face like it all was just an adventure to him. His lips were covered with a thin layer of dust from the debris. He was fine and alive. And there was nothing else that Natasha wanted to do more than kissing him. So, she puts her hands on his shoulder and tiptoed to reach his mouth.

Bucky wrapped his metal arm around her waist, pulling her close to deepen the kiss. Their tongue intertwined, exploring each other's mouth, it felt so damn good, so right. Natasha thought that she'd never felt this way before, and she would never get tired of kissing James like this. She wanted it, and he wanted it too.

A moan escaped her lips when she pulled away to breathe because the super-soldier, apparently, could hold his breath longer than hers. She liked it and definitely wanted to test its limits. They stayed looking into each other eyes for a while, Barnes caressed her cheek and she leaned on his familiar touch.

"A penny for your thoughts," James whispered, still holding her tight.

"I wanna give it a try. Make it work," Natasha replied with a grin.

Her heart almost melted when Bucky smiled at her again, his smile was so marvelous. He leaned in to meet her lips in a passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sad that this story is over, I enjoyed writing this.  
> I have another BuckyNat fic in mind, it'll only be three _long_ chapters. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweethaleia.tumblr.com/) and I'll post about future updates.


End file.
